The Saga of Loki and the Wyrms of Titan
by Goblin Cat KC
Summary: Loki does what he does best – make trouble and have someone get him out of it again. With a dungeon escape, trolling the Avengers, and thwarting an alien invasion. THORKI.
1. Chapter 1

**The Saga of Loki and the Wyrms of Titan**

by KC

**Disclaimer**: All characters owned by Marvel.

**Summary**: Loki does what he does best – make trouble and have someone get him out of it again. With a dungeon escape, trolling the Avengers, and thwarting an alien invasion.

* * *

Clarity. For the first time in months, pure clarity. No pain, save for the scratching inside his stomach that came and went. No cloud muddling his thoughts. His mind, as quick as silver, blinked and roused itself and breathed deep the pure Asgardian air.

His heart smoldered like a cooking fire left too long, sifting the embers into a weak flame. Not extinguished, not snuffed out, still darkly red, but worn from flaring too long. The lost year and all its torments had nearly killed him, coming closer than giants and trolls and gods to finally getting the best of the divine trickster. But he was alive, even if he found himself once again in a prison.

The trick, Loki knew, was patience.

In his dungeon cell, Loki sat very, very quietly. Hours lounging on a bed of straw, awaiting the attention of the king, while the guards stood at the door and looked through the bars. Curious warriors came to gawk at the Jotun freak who thought he was Asgardian, their curses and insults under their breath, pitched just loud enough for him to hear, while he refused to react, staring at the same page of the book his mother had brought him, her eyes lowered in shame...but now the dungeons were quiet. The curious passed on, the guards realized he meant not to move, and the show was over.

In his dungeon cell, Loki sat very, very quietly and wondered why the guards didn't question that he did not turn the pages. So kind of his mother to bring him the book in his chambers with the tassel to mark his place. He didn't even remember what he'd been reading in the days before Thor's aborted coronation. Certainly not this. _The Saga of Brecca and Wyrms of Jorvic_.

Not a spellbook, not that she would have brought such a dangerous thing to him, but rather a long volume of history to better while away the hours with battle poetry.

He hated battle poetry.

But the book was large enough to cover his hand as he inched it down into the straw. Even unwatched, he had to appear completely impotent. Both Heimdall and Odin saw everything, and his magic was not yet with him.

The muzzle locking his mouth burned. His magic ached to come out, growing within him but with no outlet, and the swell of power would soon become truly painful. He thought of ripping the gag off, healing his myriad small wounds and deep hurts left from his thrashing in Midgard, but he refrained. The only thing now was patience.

Even Heimdall had to blink. Even Odin could be distracted. And every prison had a weak spot.

This dungeon's weak spot, for example, was that it had been his childhood refuge and playground. Odin rarely kept prisoners and the farthest cells were built deep into the stone beneath the castle. Torchlight did not reach the main doors, so he could settle on a comfortable bed of straw, give himself just enough of a glow to read by, and pass long hours in silence where no one could find him. He could fall into each book as if they were water, silently sinking deep so that he heard nothing, not his mother calling for him, not Thor demanding his company, until he reached the last page and rose again like a swimmer breaking the surface, breathing deep.

The dungeon, like a book, centered him, calmed him, and gave him focus, which he wielded like a beam of light on his bookmark.

Truthfully, he thought, his mother should have realized that he didn't use bookmarks. A torn strip of paper between the pages of a sorcerer's book? More like a scrap of a forgotten spell, and he twisted it under the straw, bent it into a wisp of raw potential.

Tearing off the muzzle would be painful, but worse, it would send out a flash of magic like an alarm. All the guards in the castle would rush down, spears and swords aloft, no doubt with his brother and father at the front. But Loki was no brute to blunder clumsily along.

As if tired, he lay his head down, closing his eyes as, unseen beneath the thick straw, his hand closed around the muzzle's edge. Relaxed as if to fall asleep. For a long moment he hesitated, felt sleep hovering so close and wondered if he couldn't spare the hours for actual rest. The day had been long and painful, marched through the castle's long hall with the threat of Mjolnir at his back. The silence of the warriors at their evening feasting was worse than all their jeers. The strained look in Odin's face, the empty ache obvious in his mother's eyes...

_No, don't think about it_, he told himself. _And don't fall asleep._

Oh, but how tempting the thought! He hadn't slept in weeks, he still bore bloody scratches from the fighting, and now, for the first time in months, he didn't feel the Chitauri's constant glare over his shoulder. The dungeon was his first respite since his fall, and the straw was as inviting as any bed. So easy to let his sore muscles relax, and the stones underneath the straw were cool and soothing...and ripping off the muzzle would hurt, it was going to hurt, it was going to hurt so—

Deep breath.

He clenched the muzzle and pulled with all his strength, snapping the metal, snapping his jaw, and gouging his face in one smooth movement. Blood splashed the straw. At the same time he used all the scrap magic in his hand not to hide the muzzle's alarm but to shape it into something else—a replica of himself face down in the straw, fast asleep, and his true presence masked from Heimdall's sight.

Biting off his yell, he curled up on his side and groaned in pain, nauseated. For several minutes he lay still, bleeding on the stone with his eyes squeezed shut. Part of him hoped that the guards had heard the snapped steel or his gasp and would bring healers. Part of him took worthless comfort that no one was coming and that he was alone as always.

He pressed his hand to his cheek, cupping the broken bones, spitting out several teeth from one side of his face. His own magic burst inside him and began knitting flesh back together, as painful as tearing out thick leather stitching on his mouth, and what did that say about his life that he could compare the two? The pieces of his jaw slid under his skin and pressed together again, burning hot as they fused together.

If his magic hadn't been corked up by that damn muzzle, he could have accomplished everything he needed in a moment. Instead he would have to rely on his wits until he could muster his strength once again.

His face was not entirely healed when he turned over and stiffly pushed himself up, staggering as he got to his feet and leaning hard against the wall. Wracked by deep shudders, he dragged in each breath and kept his shoulder to the wall as he moved toward the door. A turn of his hand and the lock clicked open. On the other side, a guard turned, startled.

Loki froze in surprise for just a second—how stupid to forget that locks made noise—then kicked the door as hard as he could. The heavy wood and iron slammed back and flattened the guard on the other side. Loki came out at the same time, dodging the clumsy grab from the other guard and flicking his own spilled blood into the man's eyes.

_Heimdall will see this,_ Loki thought in a fury. _Heimdall will see this and Odin will see this and dammit!_

Loki veiled himself in shadow, but neither the watchman nor his adopted father would miss two guards battered by a seeming strong breeze. No time left to waste here—he sidestepped the blinded guard and ran up the stairs, breaking open the strong doors and coming into the hall.

Already a dozen more men were running towards him, and he pressed himself against the far wall as they passed, feeling the brush of one's cape on his cheek. Sliding to one side, he masked the sound of his footfalls with their clanking armor. Really, were they trying to make this easy for him? If he wanted, he could use the Casket—no. No, he must not grow bold. Cautious, cautious. He kept his eyes wide and his ears sharp, taking in everything he could. It was night—the starry sky filled the windows at the far end of the hall, and he heard only the confusion of the servants, startled out of their beds by the shouting below.

Stepping lightly on the smooth floors was easy in his soft leather boots. Passing behind the heavy curtains, he went down the corridor that led to the royal family's private chambers, silent on the stairs. The commotion down below grew louder as his replica was found, asleep in an open cell, and then a roar of anger as his deceit was discovered, his replica was touched and vanished.

Now the castle would be crawling with idiots poking their spears blindly in all directions, but even this served to help him. After all, what better to mask his escape than a mad flurry of warriors rushing around like maddened bulls? With each step, he left behind one replica after another, and each one of them darted down a different hall, buying him time.

The library lay at the far end of the castle, tucked out of sight lest Asgard remember that their king was actually educated. At least that's what Loki told himself when teased for holding a book in public. The library was almost always as empty as the dungeons, save for Odin's rare visit.

It was empty now as he stepped inside, breathing deep the scent of ancient manuscripts older than his father, mouldering on the shelf. As usual, he was the only one who'd been inside in months, maybe years. His pen and papers lay on the table where he'd left them, notes he would never finish taking now. A bowl of golden apples lay beside them, still perfectly fresh as when he stole them months ago, and he slipped them into his tunic.

With a turn of his hand, he sent the table flying into the far wall, catching the inkwell in midair as books and loose pages fluttered around him like snow. He stepped into the space where the table had been and looked around himself.

_Yes, yes, clear enough_, he decided, and poured the ink out.

Pouring out his ink onto the stone floor, he put out his hand and, through subtle turns of his fingers, shaped the splatter into a crude circle, smoothed the edges and refined it. Another smaller circle appeared inside the first, and Loki filled the space between with runes as neat as if he'd written them. He turned slowly, etching in each one, whispering the words despite how speaking pulled at his skin, and set the circle turning over the floor. After a few seconds, the circle glowed a faint green light that pulsed and grew stronger.

As he finished, a shoe scuffed on the stone, a voice breathed in that wasn't his. His head snapped up, driving a bolt of agony through his cracked jaw, and he winced. Not from pain. From...something like embarrassment, the self-conscious shame of a naughty schoolboy.

Standing still, hands clasped before her, Frigga stared ahead without seeing him but knowing he was there. Loki ducked his head even though he was invisible to her. He'd never felt close to Odin, but he'd hid behind her skirts for years. For all his sorcerous knowledge and cunning wit, she was who he went to for help.

Like pulling away a blanket, he let his invisibility slip away, revealing himself. He felt a pang of guilt as she gasped seeing his wounds.

"I'm sorry you have to see this," he murmured, still not looking at her, half-expecting her to rap his knuckles.

"I'm sorry it ever reached this point," she said softly, facing him steadily with sorrow in her eyes. "I would protect you if I could."

He paused. For all he knew, he might never see her again, and the sudden knot in his throat choked him. Just having her there calmed his nerves and gave him the sense that everything would be all right. But the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs like hammers shattered his feeling like glass. Mother was the Queen of Asgard, but she held little sway over its king.

"This isn't what it seems," he said in a sudden rush, sick at heart that he could not lay the truth at her feet but needing to say something, anything. "Everything I've done, all the tricks I've played—it's for a reason, more important than anything I did before—"

"Then stay," she said over him, taking a step forward. "Don't leave. If you have your reasons, then tell us. Your father will listen—"

"Odin will strip me of my magic," Loki said. His anger pushed away his regret and hurt, soothed the knot in his throat so that he could trust his voice not to break. "Cast me down into exile and forget about me, forget I ever existed—"

"No, Loki," she said, pleading as she felt him slipping through her fingers. "He wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't forget the Jotun monster?" Loki said with a bitter laugh. "When it would be so much easier? He wouldn't even have to take time to mourn, just declare a day of celebration and all of Asgard would forgive him—"

Frigga turned her head as if remembering something painful. "Loki, please—"

As she came close to the edge of the circle, Loki held up his hand in warning.

"Do not cross the boundary," he said quickly. "The spell is powerful—it could burst—"

The library door crashed off of its hinges onto the floor, followed by Thor stepping across and Odin after him. To his surprise, Thor did not hold his hammer, but Odin held his spear Gungnir in one hand, looking at him as if his adopted son were any other frost giant. Thor took a purposeful step towards him only for his father to put out his arm, holding Thor back.

Loki met their looks evenly, drawing on his anger as a shield. No longer the scolded schoolboy, he drew himself to his full height, painfully aware that he did not measure up to either of them.

"Tired of playing with my constructs?" he asked in mock innocence. "Or are they all destroyed, discovered false only after they were run through?"

"Dispel the magic," Odin commanded, ignoring his questions. "This was not how I wished to speak with you, but clearly I can postpone this discussion no longer."

"Ah, father," Loki said, sarcasm lovingly entwined in his voice. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather leap down to Midgard than be hurled."

He put his hand out, pushing power into his circle until it glowed like the sun. With a great yell, Thor reached forward, ignoring Frigga's warning, and crossed the circle to grab Loki's throat.

Instead the circle exploded in a hot flash of light that slammed Thor into the shelves, stumbling to the floor as more books toppled down on his head. Around them, the library smoldered and pages glowed red at the edges. As Thor stood, confused by the empty space before them, delighted laughter came from the other side of the room.

"That simply never grows old," Loki laughed, revealing himself standing across from them in a mass of dense shadows that swept over and around him. "Some of us use our wits and subtlety, and some of us swing ourselves around like a hammer."

They stared, and he was acutely reminded of how he looked. His last replica had been made of vanity, the memory of what he looked like months and months ago. Feeling naked without the veil, he put his hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to hide the blood spilling over his lip, hide the bruises and the gaunt edges of his face. He could not help but notice the stark difference of his family standing in light and himself in a growing pool of darkness.

"No!" Thor roared, echoed by Odin.

As they advanced, Odin with his spear Gungnir raised, Thor with Mjolnir hefted in one hand, Loki's smile faded. They moved so similarly, arms wide, broad steps, their shoulders leaning forward. They were so obviously father and son. His gaze fell, rose, fell again, and he turned away from them, refusing to look as the shadows climbed to his shoulders.

"Loki, please!" Frigga cried.

They reached him as the shadows covered up his face, his eyes turning black, swallowed in darkness just as Thor reached out, grabbing a handful of mist that wafted over his fingers and vanished.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Cleaving a rift in the fabric of the universe and stepping through the dark material between was not pleasant. Loki landed hard on his back on concrete, blinking a few times as he caught his breath. This was the second time in nearly as many days that he'd been slammed bodily into stone, and his headache hadn't recovered from the last one.

And where had he landed? A pinpoint landing was impossible. Even Odin had to see through the rift to send a whirlwind to guide his unfortunate victim down, and Loki had teleported himself blindly with no welcoming wind to cushion the fall. He only hoped that he was close to New York. Otherwise he had a long walk ahead of himself.

As the last wisp of darkness slipped away, dissipating into nothing, something cool and damp settled on his skin. He opened his eyes. Gray clouds greeted him through a broken roof, and the ringing in his ears was actually the hum of raindrops faintly tapping the floor around him. For long minutes he listened for the slightest rumble of thunder, but the storm was a gentle one and the only sound came from the wind blowing past.

Thor had not followed him. Relieved and disappointed, Loki considered taking a nap here. The floor wasn't so much comfortable as it was simply there, and he was lying down, and he hadn't slept for so long. And hadn't slept well for months before that.

Something kicked and chewed inside him, biting with tiny fangs in frustration. He dragged in a shuddery breath and once again clawed his conscious thoughts away from sleep.

"Now is not the time for laziness," he murmured to himself. "And rest is a luxury I can ill afford."

Pushing up until he was sitting, he leaned forward and rested one arm across his bent knee, glancing around himself. The ceiling had caved in here, creating a wide patch of moss that spread in a circle. The walls were mostly intact, but the windows were all broken and most of them no longer held any glass at all, with tree branches jutting in and ivy creeping down to the floor, which was itself covered in patches of dirt and sprouting grass disappearing under the growing puddle in the corner.

Rising to his feet, he groaned at the deep exhaustion running through him. He could have collapsed on the concrete for days. Spells had their cost, and the darker rituals spent magic like a sliced artery. Not even Odin dallied with black magic this way, and Loki felt a tiny sense of superiority in his daring, his reckless drive to fully master this power despite how weak it left him. He couldn't afford to sleep until this makeshift shelter was secure, however, and he went to the closest window, climbing out and stepping on gravel.

Long grass sprouted up between the cracked pavement all the way up to a chainlink fence and barbed wire. There were powerlines, but they'd fallen over and lay haphazardly across the ground, long cut off from electricity. Empty lots surrounded him on all sides, and the road leading to the locked gate was so overgrown as to be indistinct.

Abandoned and forgotten, no one would disturb this place. Now he just had to satisfy his paranoia before he could rest. The fence, he turned into a physical holder of his warding spell. Like a large dome, the spell covered him and would spark if something crossed inside.

Ignoring the doors that were rusted shut, he went back in through the window and made a few quick alterations. A turn of his hand set a strong wind through the structure, pushing the scattered paint chips and rust into the corner. He didn't try to mend the walls, instead laying a webwork of magic so that he was the spider in the center, feeling for any irritants who tried to break in.

He slid his hand into his pocket, touched the curve of the golden apples. He could take a bite now, refresh himself from his long stay on earth without them. Idunn's harvest kept the gods young and strong, and his last bite had been as Asgard's king—

Bad memories. He put them from his mind and instead focused on the crafting a suitable bed. A tangle of rusted out pipes stood against the wall. He supposed, if he twisted and turned them just right, he could make a serviceable mattress, and with proper sleep he could replenish his dwindling store of magic without using up a precious apple.

The pipes were so eager to fall apart that they melted and reformed almost before he could finish the spell, an old charm borne from years of traveling with Thor, camping in the forest with no decent bed and a brother who thought the ground was comfortable enough. Thor often teased Loki for wanting his comforts. Of course once the bed was created, his brother eagerly stole every inch he could.

Staring blankly at the wall, Loki lost himself in his memories. The dense forest overhead, dry leaves that snapped when they moved, and Thor hogging the bed of transfigured leaves, taking the lion's share as his right. And when Loki protested, Thor patted the space beside him invitingly, put his arm around his brother's side and hugged him close. And magically there was enough room for them both, and Loki would not have traded the rough forest floor for his own soft bed.

Old steel groaned overhead, pushed by the wind, and the trees and stars vanished, leaving behind wet concrete and steel. Though he was not cold, Loki put his arms around himself and took a long breath. Those nights had been centuries ago. Thor hunted only with his friends now. It was unseemly to share a bed. Certainly Loki did not miss riding with his brother, not when he instead could be curled up in the library reading.

Alone.

Curled up in a cold room.

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. His whole body ached for sleep, but his thoughts refused to let it come.

A wire in his mind trembled, a thread of his protection seal stretched violently and snapped as something breached his guards. He cursed under his breath. That was a lot faster than he'd expected. His brother? He shook his head once. Impossible. Thunder and lightning would have made it obvious. ?Odin? No, even the All-father could not have found him so quickly. He'd left no trace of himself in this plane of existence, traveling instead through the darkness between—

He closed his eyes in realization, ignoring the growls coming closer to the doors. Something from the darkness must have found his footsteps and followed him.

Claws scraped on the doors, rattling them on their hinges. In a moment they would fall inward and whatever was there would charge in. Stealing himself for a fight, Loki reached for his knives...only to remember he had no magic to spare.

"Damn," he whispered.

So much for rationing. He grabbed an apple and took one sweet bite, then put it back in the pouch as its magic worked through his body into his bones. No substitute for true sleep, but it gave back enough for him to hold his own.

The doors cracked in half and collapsed. Two dark shapes stepped in, shrouded in the explosion of grime and dust, and Loki took the chance to spread fog of his own, filling the factory in a thick blur of smoke.

The growling that followed was cautious, with heavy footsteps padding inside. A tiny stone was kicked across the floor, clattering against the wall. Soft tapping came from the dark shapes, a sound that Loki recognized as claws hitting the cement. With the rumbling hiss as they breathed, he assumed they were bestial creatures out of the dark realms and sent a projection of himself walking between them.

There was a sharp turn, the sound of an arm swishing through nothingness, then a screech as it tried again and struck its companion, who turned and snarled and lashed out blindly. Loki couldn't see the fight but he listened intently, grinning despite himself. He'd played this trick before on Fandral and Volstagg, and the sound of two enemies dispatching themselves always made him bite back a laugh.

Blood splashed at his feet. One of the shapes stumbled, went down and then collapsed backwards. At the same time, the other shape stepped over it and rushed at Loki, coming out of the fog with sharp teeth and black eyes. Loki cursed and backed up, flinging a blast of energy in its face. It shrieked as its eyes caught fire but that didn't stop its charge, and it lunged, its teeth snapping inches from his face.

They toppled backward, Loki grappling under its weight, and finally he recognized it. He'd only seen the warriors and lieutenants of the Chitauri, but this was undoubtedly one of their creatures. Its teeth were long, its skin as thick as armor with sharp horns jutting over its eyes, but it retained the same brutish face and grunt.

Catching the Chitauri's claws, he slowly forced the creature's hands backwards until they broke, then gathered all his strength and turned, pushing it over on its back as he yelled. Leaping on top of it, he straddled its body and leaned over, then put his hand over the creature's mouth and cast a bolt of energy straight down its throat.

The Chitauri went rigid, arching its back violently as its insides scorched, and then fell back to the floor, relaxing in death. Loki waited, hand raised, counting off long seconds in his head. Only after the moment passed and he heard no heartbeat did he believe it was dead, and he sat back on the cold concrete with a deep breath.

Scouts. He set their bodies on fire and watched them burn. Scouts set to following any trace of him in the aether between the realms. Thanos was looking for him. Loki was sure the bastard blamed him at least in part for the decimation of his army. And the loss of the mind gem. And the tesseract. And maybe even the hand delivered Midgardian missile.

Not good. Cold fear gathered in him. Thanos was powerful, too powerful even for gods. True, Loki had been worn ragged when he first met Thanos, battered by cosmic storms and incapable of defending himself from such a monster, but he was no better off now. If the Chitauri managed to drag him back as he was, weak and tired...

The gnawing in his abdomen slowed and went dormant, scraped at his inner walls and still again.

He took the apple he'd bitten and finished it, devouring even the core. If there was any chance he would be taken, he would eat the rest. With it, he might have a chance. Or at least it meant Thanos would not taste Idunn's magic.

But if Thanos was plotting, then that meant Loki had no time to rest. Getting to his feet, leaning on his knees for a moment, he whipped up a plan. Not his best, certainly not his most refined. The plan held a taste of Thor in its simplicity.

If Thanos had his mind made up to attack once more, then Loki needed to gather his brother's comrades in arms once again. And that meant some flashy mischief and carefully crafted chaos.

It also meant he could not sleep yet. He left the factory with his head slightly bent, eyes half shut, plotting his next steps like a sleepwalker floating in and out of consciousness, each thought more dreamlike than the next.

Following the road along the shoulder, he didn't notice the little bits of frost left in his footprints.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

In a coffee shop patio, Loki sank into a metal chair that shouldn't have felt as comfortable as it did. His exhaustion was playing tricks on his mind, and when the waitress came by, he found that he had to tune out the road beside them, the people on the sidewalk, simply to catch the thoughts in her head. Normally plucking a thought from a Midgardian's mind took no effort, unguarded and painfully lacking in magic as they were, but the town around them swirled in a whirlpool that made it considerably harder to find what he wanted.

A long moment passed before he found something satisfying.

"Quad shot iced latte," he said said, not sure what it meant except that it might help make the sleeplessness more bearable.

She gave him a look but didn't argue, rubbing her arms for warmth as she went back into the building. Only one other person sat outside on the patio, huddled over his laptop and occasionally angling it for a better signal. Loki was less interested in the human, however, than the mortal's dessert which was no longer melting in the sudden cold snap. Sponge cake, strawberries and whipped cream...Loki decided to order the same when the waitress returned.

For now, however, he began his assault on the town in full. Mischief making, he'd learned long ago, had to be properly savored, preferably somewhere far enough to be out of trouble but close enough to watch it all unfold.

The unseasonable snowfall was just the beginning. Light flakes began to float out of the cloudless sky, spotted first by children who tried to catch them on their tongue. Then the adults noticed, swatting the snow away like insects before realizing something was wrong. As people looked up, asking each other where it was coming from, Loki turned his hand, tugging on the aetheric strings to darken the sky far too fast. Dark and foreboding, storm clouds rolled out of nothing and coalesced above them, rumbling with thunder and hidden lightning.

The snow began to stick in the street corners, making small drift piles on the sidewalk, but he couldn't bring on a full winter storm. Not yet. A blizzard would have driven away his audience.

A little down the road, in the middle of a traffic circle, stood a tall statue of a man riding a horse. Loki made a pass with his hand, then turned his attention to the waitress bringing his coffee.

"You sure you don't wanna come inside?" she said, wincing at the bite in the air. "It's a lot warmer."

"Cold doesn't bother me," he smiled. "In fact, could you bring one of those sponge cakes with the strawberries?"

She gave him a look of disbelief, but tilted her head in agreement and turned back to go inside. As the door closed behind her, the sound of groaning steel echoed down the street.

Loki took a sip, leaning back in his chair. A latte was no Asgardian mead, but Midgard food had its own charms. He would have to remember this drink. If it could keep him awake as well as the waitress believed it would, nothing could sneak up on him. And he couldn't imagine the amount of books he might be able to finish faster.

In the traffic circle, the horse whinnied and waved its front hooves, and the steel rider brandished his sword. Then the horse leaped down among the cars and galloped out of sight. Squealing brakes and screams followed.

Loki tapped his fingertips along his glass. The problem with pranks was the endless creativity needed. After a thousand years of life, some of his tricks were starting to feel routine.

He summoned every plant and dormant seed beneath the pavement to spring to life, cracking the sidewalk into pieces and sending pine saplings up in the middle of the road. One or two trees snapped as cars drove over them, but a second nudge of magic left their trunks thick enough to stop anything. In a few minutes, the road was a lush forest filling out with bushes. Unlucky cars sat in the branches like oversized ornaments.

Beneath the forest, the tree roots expanded and destroyed underground pipes. An explosion shattered windows in the building across from the coffee shop. As shards of glass rained down on people below, the fire of a broken gas line shot up several stories. Another gas explosion rocked the ground closer to the traffic circle, quickly put out by a sudden geyser from a burst water pipe.

Soon the road became a small river. As the snowflakes grew larger, the water turned into slush.

The waitress slowly set the dessert plate down in front of him. He was impressed that she'd come despite the chaos, but when she didn't move, he glanced up curiously.

Staring at him with wide eyes, her gaze flickered toward the carnage and then back.

"Please," she said softly. "Don't hurt us."

He raised an eyebrow. Her heart fluttered beneath her breast, her thoughts struggled to stay calm when her body drowned in panic. And still she had the presence of mind to work out that he was to blame. Even brought him a dessert like some kind of offering.

Here he sat, the overly calm man sitting in the midst of freezing chaos, the one who looked like the would-be king from the last battle. Not a terribly challenging riddle, but still impressive for a Midgardian.

"I will stop," he said, "when your champions arrive to face me."

She frowned, and her brow furrowed. "What?"

"Your heroes," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Who may arrive more speedily if you summon them."

Understanding lit her eyes. Her phone was at her ear before she'd gone back inside, and he paid her half an ear as she tried to contact the police and worried that her call would not go through.

A graham cracker stood straight in his ice cream, and in two bites it was gone. The food here simply didn't last. He considered demanding more, but his waitress was busy pacing back and forth as she argued with someone on the phone. As determined as she was, he doubted he'd have time to finish before she managed to bring the Avengers, and he couldn't bear the thought of not finishing. He hadn't dared touch any of the food offered in his dungeon. Who knew how Asgard might poison poor Loki?

He turned the chair beside him into graham cracker, breaking off a long piece and continuing to eat, leaning back in his chair. Now that he thought about it, the tall buildings resembled rows of dark chocolate bars and all the windows were actually spun sugar.

No sooner had he thought of it than the buildings began to change. The bakery suffered first, sagging under the heat of its oven as the walls melted into the street. The bookstore went next with its large window falling out and smashing on the sidewalk. Loki grinned, and then a thousand books flew out through the hole left behind, spiraling up in all directions like suicidal birds, crashing through the windows of upper level stories as their pages held them aloft like wings.

The bank on the corner began to lean wildly, tilting as its foundation turned to sugar, and people ran out amidst screams and howls. The farther the bank leaned, the harder it was to escape, until a third story bent lower, nearly touching the ground as its walls warped, and a dozen people scrambled out of a window.

Pleased with the bank's new shape, he turned it back into stone and mortar. When the rest of the buildings began to go, he'd do the same, freezing them as they melted—

"I got them!"

Loki's head snapped up as the waitress came back, phone held out for him.

"What?"

"The Avengers," she said with all the air of a worshipful mortal hoping to please her god. "I got through. They're on the phone."

Loki hesitated, glancing between her and the phone, and at her cheerful nod, he took the phone and held it to his ear.

"I am Loki Laufeyson," he said, hoping he was using the device correctly. "Am I speaking to an Avenger?"

"They're busy," came the angry reply. "And why the hell aren't you locked in Asgard?"

Loki laughed once. "Oh, Director Fury. I'd recognize your voice anywhere. Tell me, what are you up to today? I'm having a marvelous time here in...well, whatever this town is."

"I can tell," Fury said in a dry deadpan. "You've made quite a mess already. What are your demands?"

"'Demands'?" Loki echoed. "No demands. Just a bit of fun. You mortals make the most amazing faces when you're afraid."

A flick of his wrist, and the balloon on top of the Quik-E-Mart, a giant and pink gorilla, yawned, stretched, and leaped off the roof. It bounced over cars and climbed the melted bank, bounding up the next building like a movie monster.

"So," Loki said, turning his attention back to Fury. "When can I expect a visit?"

"Our regular forces are already enroute," Fury said. "I don't suppose I could interest you in surrendering peacefully again?"

"My priorities have changed," Loki said. "I would rather test your team's abilities against my pure sorcery."

"My 'team' is too busy dealing with another self-styled sorcerer to go play with you right now," Fury said, his temper snapping. "You'll just have to play with the regular humans today."

Loki frowned. "I don't think I like your plan."

"I don't give a shit!" Fury said. "Manhattan is a little more densely populated than fuckin' Little Falls. So we mere mortals will deal with the guy whose ass has already been kicked while my team deals with a real magical threat."

Silent, leaning back in his seat, Loki took a long moment and a deep breath. The fire inside his abdomen didn't go away. If anything, the burning grew until he felt his face warm. He was wasting time and magic.

The soaring books suddenly toppled out of the sky, the buildings turned back into concrete. In the center of town, the pink gorilla and the statue stopped fighting as the horse clanged sideways and the giant balloon drifted lazily into the clouds. The storm would take longer to end naturally, but he could stop spending magic to fuel it.

"I'm rather offended."

The litany of cursing on Fury's end meant that the conversation would go no further. Handling the phone delicately, he returned it to the waitress without a word.

"You...you okay?" she asked, with the air of a rabbit unsure if it should freeze or bolt.

"Perfect," he said softly. "Could you tell me which way lies Manhattan?"

"Yeah," she said, pointing vaguely in one direction. "Just take the highway. It goes right to it."

Forcing a smile, he stood up and straightened his clothes, turned the dessert plate into gold for her tip and left. As Loki walked down the sidewalk, he briefly considered shapeshifting to something that could fly or gallop, but that would take power he didn't want to spend.

His answer came speeding down the road, one of the sleek black metal steeds that they favored on Midgard. It wasn't a horse, but it was the closest thing, and as the motorcycle raced by him, he snatched the handlebar and spun the machine around, flinging off the rider and throwing his leg over the seat at the same time.

Ignoring the angry moans from the snowdrift, Loki took a moment to explore the machine's settings, squeezing the handlebars, turning the wheel. His feet found something like stirrups on which to rest, and after a little wobbling, he was riding comfortably and leaning forward into the wind. The machine did not have the poetry of a living animal beneath him, but it rode smoother than Sleipnir and he grinned to think of how he would keep this one and make a gift of another motorcycle to Thor—

His face fell, and he turned his mind back to the road.

It wasn't hard to find and stay on the highway, but the amount of other vehicles around him became more and more annoying as, after a few miles, traffic came to a stop. Loki huffed and drove down the center line, blasting a car door off its hinges when one suddenly opened in front of him.

"This is what happens when commoners are allowed steeds," he muttered.

A pity he didn't have two cats to harness. He should have found an animal shop before he left Little Falls, but there were no chariots in Midgard. It wasn't his fault if the option simply slipped his mind.

Riding at the edge of the road was barely any help. At this rate, the battle would be over before he arrived. He sat straight and brought his hands off the handlebars, but the motorcycle drove straight without his help. The metal took on a greenish glow, and Loki grabbed the bike again as the highway began to blur.

The last year had been a long string of tortures both physical and emotional, but this felt like riding a fierce stallion that responded to his slightest touch. For a moment he felt like he could fly.

In the distance, the Manhattan skyscrapers came into view. Bright purple and blue flashes exploded over them like fireworks, followed by the red and yellow blur of what had to be Iron Man zipping under the clouds.

Loki's look turned feral. He didn't know who the Avengers were fighting, but some rank pretender was about to taste true sorcery.

Tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

To Loki's relief, the battle was far from over when he finally arrived. Hugging the bike, he blew past several policemen herding mortals away from the fight and rode straight to the skyscraper that seemed to have the most lights shooting from it. The main doors were already crashed inward, with several scorch marks and deep gouges showing where the fighting had started. The lobby was empty, and he gave the stairs a dirty look before abandoning his bike and taking an elevator up. After that, he still had to take two flights of stairs to the roof, and he seriously considered spelling his motorcycle to ride up walls.

With a weary grumble, he took one more breath and savored the silence before he opened the access door to the roof.

"You dare challenge Doom? You shall bow to your true master!"

Rolling his eyes, Loki immediately spotted his target. The man was impossible to miss. Dressed in full armor with a flowing cape, this so-called Doom stood in the middle of a spell circle, casting white sigils into the air.

Dr. Banner lay half-naked at Doom's feet, and Loki raised one eyebrow in annoyance. This upstart magician had bested the Hulk? Loki felt as if he'd been stabbed in the back. How dare Banner fall so easily-

Four or five blurs passed overhead, one of them carrying a blue blur that Loki assumed was Rogers. A cursory glance of the nearby rooftops showed him Romanoff and Barton back to back, Stark wrestling with another-

Loki squinted, then bit his lip. He tried to smother his chuckles, but a deep laugh escaped despite himself.

Doom turned around with such a loud clanking that Loki laughed again. Scarred behind the mask, Doom glared and raised his hands to cast spell, but he took so long to gather the pitiful amount of energy that Loki had time to taunt.

"Clockwork toys?" Loki smiled. "You supplement your lacking magic with machines?"

"Loki Odinson," Doom intoned so deeply that his armor rumbled. "Your presence here was unanticipated."

Any trace of humor left Loki's face. Coming from Thor, his name stabbed him through the heart, but to have it spoken from a stranger felt like a violation, like something raw dragged out into the light.

"And your presence is unwelcome," Loki snarled. "The Avengers are mine, not yours. Be gone."

"You may be divine in your realm," Doom said, shaking his head. "But you are no god here."

Doom attacked, white hot blasts coming at Loki, exploding on the cement in a spray of gray dust. As the smoke disappeared, however, there was no body, and Doom turned in all directions, looking around for Loki and refusing to step over the edge of his warding circle.

"Such trust in your eyes."

Doom whirled. Perched on the ledge, legs outstretched, Loki watched him with cold anger over a dead smile, dismissively waving at the swirling magic at Doom's feet.

"Your penchant for clockworks clouds your craft," Loki said. "How old are you? Two hundred? Three?"

Doom drew a breath, bringing himself up to his full height, but Loki did not give him time to answer.

"Face me when you have five centuries or so," Loki said, raising his head with a sneer. "Then you might be an interesting diversion."

The rooftop rumbled. At first Doom thought it was one of his Doombots or that Banner had woken up. A thick crack split the concrete, neatly cutting out his circle of magic as if there were a dotted line, and then without giving him time to react, Loki sent Doom hurtling over the city, roaring his anger like a demented discus before he landed somewhere in the ocean.

Loki did not celebrate. Subterfuge and surprise would not always win the day, and he'd squandered magic simply trying to win the opportunity to antagonize the Avengers. He was a prince of Asgard. He should not have to ration magic. The god of tricks should have magic to spare, a well of power to turn wine into snakes on a whim. Now he scraped the bottom of a deep well scrounging remnants of power.

If all else failed, he had enough spells to be flashy. This next battle would not be so quick, but it had to gain more than mortal attention. With any luck, he'd soon hear the rumbling of thunder.

Without Doom peppering the Avengers with meager spell blasts, there were two low crumps from the other roof. Romanoff crushed one clockwork toy, both feet planted where its mangled spine should have been. Barton put an arrow through its eye, then downed another in the air. An explosion just ahead sent a white trail of wreckage out of sight, and then Stark landed in front of Loki, coming down heavily enough to leave cracks in the roof, with Rogers in tow.

"One job, Thor," Stark muttered, his voice metallic behind the helmet. "One freakin' job."

"Go check out Bruce," Rogers said to Stark, never glancing away from Loki. His fists tightened so that his gloves audibly creaked. "Loki. You're supposed to be in Asgard."

"I was." Loki held out his arms in a mockery of a bow. "Here I am instead."

"For a rematch?" Rogers asked.

Loki felt the cold chills of anticipation, the budding thrill before a fight. And no Fandral or Volstagg, no Hogun or Sif, no audience of warriors watching the sorcerer fight with his "little knives." No shadow to fight in...

No brother beside him.

"Bruce is coming around," Stark announced, standing protectively in front while the doctor roused himself, rubbing a sore jaw. "And how about our divine diva here? Where's your army?"

"I come with a clearer mind," Loki said. "And my own power. Before I was limited, but now you stand against the might of a true god."

As he crouched, Rogers did the same, shield at the ready, and the familiar sound of Stark's repulsors hummed with alarming volume. The start of the battle came, however, when Loki caught the arrow aimed at his head. Having learned once before, he flicked it back where it came from, heartened by the sound of Barton and Romanoff throwing themselves flat to avoid the explosion.

"Let's warm up a bit," Loki said, glancing around to make sure they were all watching, then theatrically raised his hands toward the assassins. "Something spectacular for your cameras."

The far building cracked down the side and crumbled away, slowly at first, then picking up speed so that Romanoff and Barton sprinted across the roof. As the destruction caught up, Romanoff grabbed Barton and jerked him back, managing to strand them on a small circle of roof still standing on a support pillar. As they tottered back and forth for balance, Stark hovered up into the air, taking just long enough to grumble at Loki.

"When we kick your ass," Stark said, "again, by the way—I'm gonna chew you up like yesterday's veal."

Loki smiled. "Does that dish come with a little Pepper sprinkled on top?"

"Oh, you did not go there—"

Behind them, Banner glanced between the falling masonry and the repulsor rays deflected from Loki's greaves, and he groaned and ran for the jagged edge.

"Dammit, Tony, quit talking for three seconds–" Banner's words turned into the Hulk's low rumble as he leaped out of sight, his large arms already grabbing for the largest chunks of concrete before they could fall and crush people below.

"Tony, go get Clint and Natasha!" Rogers yelled over Stark's blasts.

"No fair you hogging the villain!" Stark called out as he flew off, grabbing the two assassins over his shoulders as he did a pass.

Ignoring him, Rogers faced Loki as calmly as if his comrades were not in danger. "I'm surprised you're alone. Your brother said you prefer to trick others to get your way."

"Consider the source," Loki said, coming close. "My brother still thinks that dodging is a trick."

"I guess you don't think about dodging when you're a god," Rogers said. "Maybe that's why you lost."

"I 'lost' because I faced you lot under quite different circumstances," Loki said. "But that handicap is removed."

"Then tell me," Rogers asked, still not attacking. "What do you hope to get out of this? There's no strategic advantage. You're not a distraction for something bigger. You can't take over anything alone. What's in this for you?"

Loki grinned. "Mischief. What else is there?"

Disgusted with that, Rogers flung his shield, forcing Loki's duck and then aiming a kick at his head. "This is a league beyond mischief."

"On the contrary, one thrown nail can destroy a whole army," Loki said, sidestepping his boot.

"But there's no army—" Rogers started, then blinked as something occurred to him. "Wait, did you—?"

"I'm sorry," Loki said, "it's so hard to hear you all the way up here."

The surface under their feet shattered. Loki stepped back lightly from the crumbling footing, and Rogers found himself on the wrong side as the roof began to slide away. As he toppled backward over the edge, yelling for their Hulk's attention, Loki flashed him a small salute over an infuriating smile.

"You're running out of room to maneuver," Stark cut in unexpectedly.

The repulsor blast grazed his shoulder as Loki leaned hard, using the movement to carry him into a somersault into the corner. Loki scowled, covering the burn with his hand.

"Some of us cannot fly," he said through his teeth.

"Then how bout you give up?" Stark said, hands out, palms glowing. "Before you land a foot deep in the floor. Again."

"As I recall," Loki said, putting his hands behind his back. "Our conversation ended with you plummeting from your own tower."

"You still owe me for that window," Stark said. "And keep those hands where I can see them."

"Of course."

As Loki held out his hands, a row of mirror images spread out and covered the remaining roof. Startled, Stark flew back several feet so he could see all of them, and Loki let out a sigh of relief that he had gained a little fighting room.

"That never gets old," Loki said, but his hands trembled with the effort. "Can you even begin to—"

"Jarvis, thermals—"

Unerring microrockets picked Loki's temperature from his insubstantial projections, two deflected by his quick gestures but two more exploding against his chest. Loki flew backwards, slamming into the ledge so that it cracked. Groaning and spitting out a mouthful of blood, he staggered to one knee, holding himself up with one hand. He tried to heal the bleeding inside and felt his magic sparking out at his fingertips.

"Seriously," Stark said, all humor gone from his voice. "Give up. I don't like killing and your chances are a lot better with me than him."

Him? The skyscraper shook, and Loki spared a glance over the side and his eyebrows shot up. Their Hulk, only a few stories down, saw him and bellowed loud enough to shatter the rest of the windows on that wall, climbing up faster with an eager, feral grin.

"Oh, not on your life," Loki snarled, and with a turn of his hands he summoned the Casket of Ancient Winters out from his shadow where he had stashed it away, suddenly bathed in its cold light.

"That's not good," Stark muttered to himself, firing his repulsors while launching another volley of missiles.

Stark's armaments crashed against the ice that poured like water out of the casket. Ice exploded in all directions, sharp as shrapnel, and Loki trembled as the raw power flowed over his hands, quickly covering the tattered ruins of steel and stone beneath him. It fell over the side like a frozen river, pure and clear, and Hulk's frustrated roar grew faint as he slipped and tumbled away.

For a moment, Loki indulged in the strength spilling around him like an ocean, making clear why the frost giants wanted this artifact. He could cover the whole city in ice a thousand feet thick, create a new planet out of the frostbitten remains of this one, and only he would remain. A world of ice, silent save for soft creaks and groans, and himself alone in a dead wasteland.

Tempting.

"So..." Stark mused, hovering several feet above him. "God, sorcerer...smurf?"

Frowning, Loki followed his look to his own hand and stared in disgusted fascination. Shouldn't he have expected this? His Jotun markings stood out clearly on blue skin, and he half-turned, shielding his face with one hand. Small wonder the air felt hot. His body longed for the sunless stretches of Jotunheim.

"Now I get it why you're emo," Stark said, obviously grinning behind the mask. "You're so bl—"

His eyes flashing in rage, Loki twisted and aimed the casket high at Stark, who went backwards and disappeared with a layer of ice over his armor.

Loki looked around for an enemy and found no one. Alone, he took a long breath, then released it with a deep shudder that surprised him. He let the Casket vanish back into the darkness and stood quietly, not sure what to do now. The sky above him was frustratingly clear. He ran his hand through his hair. If this hadn't been enough to get Odin's attention...

No. He paused, staring at a dark smudge in the distance. Hang on, perhaps...

The sky turned black, thick clouds visibly rolling in like waves accompanied by the rumbles of thunder and low flashes of light. Loki narrowed his eyes. New York was miles from his blizzard, and this was instead a funnel of lightning.

He gave a sigh of relief. Odin and Thor were still so predictable. The whole of the nine realms moved in regular patterns, and a little nudge here or there simply reshuffled the pattern. Enrage Odin and Thor would follow. He nodded to himself. Mission accomplished. Thor was here on earth and would come find him. Which meant it was time for Loki to vanish—

Metallic boots landed nearby. Loki turned and frowned, giving Stark a once over. The gold and red suit still had a few bits of ice clinging to it like extra armor, and then Stark shook off the wet clumps and stepped up to Loki, losing a little intimidation by being inches shorter, even in the suit.

"How did...?" Loki murmured.

"I fixed the ice problem awhile ago," Stark said. "Your little box ain't exactly the vacuum of space."

"Ah."

With no more time and little power left to call upon, Loki raised his arms, deflecting the repulsor blast even as it forced him back, his boots sliding against the roof until he ran up against the ledge and toppled backwards. Loki had a glimpse of Stark, startled, coming out of his battle stance, just before his momentum carried him over the low ledge and sent him off the side.

Freefall. What a coincidence. Maybe he'd stop being the god of tricks and take up being the god of falling.

The windows passed in a blur. Stark came diving after him, arms out, trying to beat gravity, and Loki looked to see how much farther he had before he hit the ice below. Not far. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate, dredging up his last bits of power to slow himself.

Stark wasn't going to make it. Neither was he.

He reached out as if to catch the sun, clawing at the air, and dark feathers covered his body, feathers leaping out where his fingers had been. A beak appeared and eased the lingering ache in his jaw. His boots became talons and then he was aloft, fumbling awkwardly in the air as he steadied himself.

His body mass made for a large crow, flapping hard to gain some lift, and the cold air did nothing to help him rise. Bullets from below whirred past his head, and he tilted hard to one side, ice gathering on his feathers.

An arrow sank into his wing. Screaming in pain, he had enough time to look down and spot the shaft before the tip exploded.

The pain stole all his breath. His crow form, already weak and fleeting, left him in a cloud of feathers as he slammed onto the sidewalk. Bright lights dazzled his eyes as his head hit the hard ice. Blood gushed over his fingers, shock colder than Jotunheim washing through him. The air felt heavy and the snowflakes tumbled out of the sky like stars. Hot fragments of steel burned inside him, and thrashing legs dragged at his insides, mandibles gnashed, and again blood spilled from his mouth.

"He's down!" he heard them yell. "Hurry, before he—"

He dragged in a ragged breath and coughed out a red mist, rolling on his front so he could get up on his hands and knees. A healing spell only closed his skin, sealed an organ. He had nothing left to draw on, but a real trickster always left escape routes behind for himself. His fingers dug into frozen cement as he lifted his head, whispering a word. With a vicious roar of its engine, the motorcycle rolled of its own will toward him.

Arching his back with a cry, he brought himself just high enough to grab the handles and drape himself over the seat and engine. It picked up speed—

Pain blossomed in his shoulder. Blindly he grabbed the shaft and ripped it free, flinging the arrow away as it exploded at his fingertips. Cement burst and struck his face as Romanoff fired after him.

Away, away, get away—Thor's damn hammer would bring his brother soon. Loki dragged one leg over the motorcycle and hugged the machine, sure he would fall off as the Hulk's stomps came closer like a growing earthquake. The bike's hard right turn nearly threw him, but he clasped tightly with his legs and then he was riding blind down the road, his steel steed moving without his guidance like a horse.

The repulsor rays came fewer and fewer, the arrows flew over his shoulder and Roger's shield ricocheted off a streetlight and would have struck Loki's head if the motorcycle had not swerved without his guidance. A small twinge of bitter satisfaction twisted in him. He might be a worthless magician, but he could make a mindless Midgardian machine act like an Asgardian mount.

The road became a quiet blur, a soft line of greens and greys while he left a trail of blood behind him. He imagined that the machine knew where to go. And how nice it would have been if he could simply keep going forever, exhausted and hurt, content to listen to the engine and feel the wind coursing over him like water. He adjusted on the seat, pulling himself more securely onto the middle, resting on the bars.

Only when the sound of the road changed pitch did he wake up, surprised that he'd fallen asleep, and he sat straight expecting to be surrounded by enemies. Instead he found himself inside his temporary place of power, the broken factory he had warded. Snow drifted lazily through the hole in the roof, melting in midair.

_Sleep and healing_, he thought. _Thor is on Midgard. I can rest now. But the Chitauri know this place. I...I should find a new hole to pull in after myself..._

He gave the motorcycle a nudge, but it refused to move. As his grip weakened, he slid off of the motorcycle and landed sideways on the floor. Grimacing, weary from the pain, he rolled on his back and watched the snow come down.

Cool wind blew over his face, easing the hot pain in his shoulder and side. The shadows deepened and filled the corners, swept over him, and the Midgard sky blurred into something more familiar. The clear, glowing night over Asgard, filling the palace courtyard with light, and the snow..._the snow swirled in eddies and currents, curling around the snowball fight below._

"_Loki!" Thor yelled, laughing as he turned his head from the barrage. "I require your aid!"_

"_You?" Loki smiled from the balcony, lowering his book momentarily. "I thought magic was no use in battle?"_

"_You still hold that against me?" Thor asked as two more snowballs struck his back and melted under his collar. "Enough! Put aside your stories and put your freakish ease with cold to good use!"_

"_It isn't freakish—you're merely not as tough as you like to believe," Loki murmured, but he snapped his book shut and took a moment to survey the battle, the Warriors Three and Sif surrounding Thor as they pelted him unmercifully in the garden behind the castle. _

_Weaving magic seamlessly in the air, Loki leaped over the balcony's edge and landed in the snow, running to his brother's side. Behind himself, another Loki leaped over the balcony's edge and landed in the snow, following in his own footsteps. A few seconds later, yet another Loki leaped over the balcony's edge and landed in the snow. And with the numbers suddenly even, Loki turned the patch of ground beneath the warriors to ice. He reached into a drift to make a quick snowball..._

...and found his hand raised uselessly toward the sky, touching the falling snow, before he passed out while thinking that Thor would complain if his magic could not make a snowball fast enough.

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

Loki jerked upright before he was completely awake, shuddering as magic exploded around him. He blinked and looked around, raising his hand in self-defense, curling up on his side. Deep grumbling roared in his ears.

Before, the Chitauri scouts had felt like clumsy bugs stumbling into his web, snapping threads, but the burst of power that Loki felt now smashed his web like a club. Strands of magic floated back to him, his protective wards smashed to pieces, and he climbed painfully to his feet, hugging himself as he moved away from the rippling power.

A rift tore through space, a jagged white wound in the air that ripped open wide and revealed the Chitauri homeworld. Several of the aliens stood at the edge, their teeth chattering in excitement, and in the center stood Thanos, hands clasped behind his back like a patient dictator. His smile was coldly satisfied as he tilted his head back.

"Loki," Thanos rumbled. "I've found you."

His voice filled the ruins, spilling the hollow emptiness of Titan across the solar system into the tiny space around them. Forcing a smile, Loki panted for breath as he backed away. Pain twisted his sides, forcing him to stand bent half over.

"Took you long enough," Loki said around a grimace of a smile. "I even had time for a nap."

"I am not laughing, little trickster," Thanos said. "You have failed me utterly, and now you will suffer for that failure."

Loki grit his teeth, steadying himself as he watched two, then four Chitauri step through the rift, their heavy knives held at the ready. He bought himself another moment by backing away farther, using the scraps of his torn magic to summon up a handful of knives.

"Bring him alive," Thanos ordered.

"I'd rather not," Loki said, hunched over with his arms around his waist. "You've had more than your pound of flesh."

The Chitauri fanned out around him and charged, claws outstretched, and Loki let himself fall backwards. In mid-air, he flung out several knives that caught three of the warriors, a fourth knife missing the last warrior and spinning towards the rift, straight towards Thanos. Although it was useless, Loki glanced up to see if his knife caught Thanos a lucky strike. Instead the cold steel burned in the midst of the rift and vaporized.

"You cannot touch me," Thanos said, unflinching. "And it will be a long time before you find Death's embrace."

Loki landed on his back, wind knocked out of him as the fourth Chitauri pounced on him. He caught its claws, one in each hand, holding the creature inches away as its jaws snapped at his face. Every last bit of power was gone, thrown away with each knife, but Loki drew on centuries of wrestling with the god of thunder and drove his knee into the creature's side. Its shell of armor cracked and it cringed to protect itself, leaving Loki to shove it off to the floor.

Normally he would have leaped to his feet. Instead he laboriously turned on his hands and knees, held out a hand to one of his knives. The blade twisted in the dead Chitauri's neck, weakly fluttering in the deep muscles on its throat, and Loki grit his teeth and jerked angrily at his magic.

Finally the blade slid free and came to his hand, and blindly he swung his arm in a broad arc, the tip of the knife slashing open the last Chitauri's throat as it tried to get up. Blood splashed his face and hand, dripping down his arm.

"Your lackeys are no match," Loki said between breaths, "for a real god. Come, monster, face me yourself!"

"You seek to goad me into giving you a quick end," Thanos said, leaning forward. "It will not be so. I intend to test the limits of your so called godhood."

"Divine pretender," Loki snapped. "Cringing in the dead husk of your world—come and fight me! Or may I tell the universe that Thanos is a base and weak coward—"

Power burst from Thanos' hand and slammed against Loki, throwing him backwards so that he hit the wall and then landed on hard concrete. Behind him, he heard the walls crack, felt ribs break as his hastily healed wound re-opened. He lay still for a moment, shocked at the strength Thanos could summon on a whim, and then glanced to his side. His eyes widened. Thanos was about to step across the edge—

"You will not lay one hand on my brother!"

A red cape swirled in front of him, announced by Thor's familiar rumble and sheer presence. Loki flinched as his brother's heavy boots landed in front of his face, and a second later, red and gold boots clanked on the floor beside Thor. Then two black shadows that became Barton and Romanoff taking positions behind the fused pipes and crumbled wall, bow drawn, pistol aimed. Rogers went to the front, meeting Loki's look for only an instant and then staring back at Thanos.

"Huh," Stark said in a low voice. "Dunno who ugly is, but that scenery behind him looks kinda familiar. Before I nuked it."

"Ah," Thanos chuckled. "The little god's pawns line up before him."

"You know us?" Rogers said. "But we don't know you."

"I am Thanos," came the reply. "Lord of Titan, and soon the destroyer of your worlds."

"I think that's all we need to know," Stark said.

Repulsor rays fired into Thanos face at the same time Thor released the lightning. Their combined forces pushed Thanos back a few steps, and he waved a dozen Chitauri warriors through the rift. Several strayed too close to the pulsing energy and lost their heads, but more ducked low enough and came through, only to fall back as Barton and Romanov fired into them.

Loki watched the fight from the floor. There was a flash of light and Rogers went rigid, then relaxed as the smell of smoke filled the air. He'd deflected one of the Chitauri's energy weapons, preparing for another assault. For the first time in ages, Loki began to feel stirrings of hope that he might actually survive meeting Thanos.

And then his shield of capes and boots was gone.

Loki blinked and looked around, then heard the heavy thuds behind him. He turned on his back and saw Stark and Rogers on the floor and his brother half through the wall, thrown just as he had been. On the far side, the two assassins continued their barrage, but arrows and bullets were little against Thanos' sheer might. An arrow exploded off the rift, and Thanos did not flinch.

"Enough," Thanos growled. "I no longer find this amusing. Come, Loki. My plans for you have not yet finished-"

"You have no more plans," Loki said, sitting half upright on one elbow, his other arm curled protectively around himself and now coated with blood. "You don't even realize you've lost."

"You shall retrieve my gem from Asgard," Thanos said. "and-"

Loki could not stop himself. With Thanos looming large in the portal, no escape handy and the Avengers groaning in pain as they slowly picked themselves back up, Loki began to laugh. Blood flecked his lips again, but the laughter continued.

"I don't think I shall, no," he said, shaking his head.

"You have no choice!" Thanos barked. "I command it."

"You command nothing!" Loki said through his laughter. "Odin cast me out. Asgard is barred to me with strength greater than mine. The mind gem is as lost to me as to you...unless you can march into Asgard with your forces so greatly reduced."

The narrowing of Thanos' eyes was all the answer Loki needed.

"Thanos World-Destroyer," Loki continued. "Thanos Mad-Titan. I warned you what would happen if you tried to fight me. All my schemes have devoured yours, you petty lord of a dead rock."

"Worthless insect!" Thanos bellowed, grasping the edges of the portal and leaning in. His sheer presence filled the space and made Loki duck his head, unable to bear up under the pressure that filled the room. "Your submission must clearly be beaten back into you!"

Thanos meant to come through into their world and bodily drag him back, or else rip Loki apart with his bare hands. Panic froze Loki's heart. The titan's presence brought space with it, choking the air and turning Loki's heartbeat into a drum that pounded in his head, painfully thrumming in his chest.

"Ignorant fool," Loki said in as harsh a tone as he could muster, spitting blood. "Your power is all borrowed, your grand scheming nothing but brute force—you command nothing!"

"Savor your free will while it lasts," Thanos rumbled, extending an arm towards Loki. "You are still broken to my will—"

"And even being broken," Loki gasped, dragging himself backward like a bird with broken wings. "I unraveled all your plans. I! Loki Lie-Smith, Loki Silver-Tongue—"

"I'll rip your tongue from its root!" Thanos swore, filling up the rift and putting his foot through.

"False god!" Even in its painful rasp, Loki's voice was clear.

Finally Thor staggered back from the far wall, hammer out, and sent Mjolnir into Thanos' face. The blow only pushed Thanos back a few inches, made his head turn, and his mocking grin drew Thor's own battle cry. As the dark god reached for Loki, intending to drag his wounded body back into the rift, Thor knelt over his brother and again battered at Thanos' hand, putting his arm around Loki to draw him clear.

As Thanos came again, this time shrugging off the combined fury of Barton's arrows and Stark's repulsor beams, Thor added his lightning to the mix. Exactly what Loki had hoped for. With a faltering grip strengthened only by sheer hatred, Loki seized Thor's arm and dragged down his aim, sending the lightning under Thanos' outstretched hand.

At the same time that Thor howled in frustration at the near miss, there was an explosion of fire and light, and Thanos turned in disbelief. Barely discernible in the darkness, an electric wave rippled toward him, white hot plasma rolling in all directions and sending out further explosions in its wake. The machines powering the rift vanished in a burst of sparks, and the edges of the rift shimmered violently, paused, and shimmered again. Thanos threw himself back into the rift, but not quickly enough.

A mass of purple flesh slapped the floor, steaming in the cool autumn air.

Not a head or a hand, but Loki took satisfaction in the splash of blood, something the bastard would have to take days or weeks to heal. He guessed it would be days at least before the Titan could begin to open another rift. For now, he was out of Thanos' reach.

But that did not mean he was free. He moved to sit up and instead found Thor's arms around him, holding him flush against Thor's chest. Loki groaned and squirmed in his grip, but Thor only readjusted him more comfortably as if he could not tell that Loki was trying to get free. But then his brother was not wounded or exhausted, nor afflicted with a terrible pain deep within.

"Loki..." Thor murmured, "what meant he by all that?"

As Thor turned him slightly, trying to see his face, Loki decided he'd rather feign sleep. Eyes shut, he did not answer, allowing himself to slump in his brother's arms. Rest. He would rest, and Thor would protect him. He would have let himself truly sink into slumber, but the thing inside him twisted again, trying to bite, and he forced it to lie dormant again.

"We won," Barton said, going up to the piece of Thanos left behind and poking it with an arrow. "Right?"

For a moment, they stared at the wet muscle and bone on the cement. Stark bent and gave Rogers a hand up, then turned his attention to his new lab specimen.

"Okay, that's gross," Stark said. "Jarvis, I'm gonna need to sample-pack Barney the Dinosaur's tail there. Bruce is gonna plotz."

"Not now, Tony." Rogers dropped to one knee beside Loki, taking stock of his injuries and then looking at Thor. "How bad is it?"

"He needs a healer," Thor said, looking up through the shattered roof. "But surely Heimdall must see us. Why has our father not opened a rift?"

"Maybe he doesn't want to help Loki," Barton said, sheathing his bow.

"Have a care," Thor rumbled darkly. "There is more to my brother's scheming than I knew. Surely the All-Father knows...surely..." His voice trailed off, lost and unsure.

"Maybe he can't," Rogers said. "For whatever reason. Let's get him to our healers, at least."

"What?" Barton snapped, then grumbled under his breath when he saw that Rogers was adamant. "Okay, fine, let's help the guy who blew up midtown. I'm sure that won't come back to haunt us."

"Yes...yes, let's go." Thor put his hands under his brother and hefted him up, cradling Loki's head on his shoulder.

Blood warmed Thor's hands, soaked through his sleeves. The feel of his brother's blood slicking his fingers in this too brief battle made him sick inside, turned his stomach so that he tasted acid.

"Hold fast," he murmured in Loki's ear. "Surely even Midgard's medicine can do something."

"Avengers requesting pick-up," Rogers called over the transceiver. "One wounded in need of medical attention."

"We can take him in my lab," Stark said. "We've got Thor's baselines."

As they walked out of the blasted doors, Thor shook his head.

"I meant no jest when I said he was adopted," Thor said. "He is of the Jotun race and differs from their common stock as well."

"Well, we don't have a Jotun manual here, either," Stark said. "But we do have an Asgardian. We'll just treat the Aesir geek, not the Aesir jock."

"I know not what these words mean," Thor said.

Loki might have let a smile slip, but as they waited outside by the side of the road, their voices became distant and thin. He breathed long and slow, and the world slipped into a comfortable darkness. Sleep came over him, dragging him so deep that he relaxed utterly in his brother's arms, warm and safe as Thor held him. So absorbed in a dream of watching Thor practice his swordsmanship in a light rain, pretending to ignore him while Thor tried to call him away from reading in the window—and why would he want to get his book wet?—he did not notice the far away sensation of something gnawing at his side, deciding to use his distraction as a fine time to further eat its way free.

**tbc...**


	6. Chapter 6

**Part 6**

Loki's nightmares could not compare with the horror of reality. The fangs and tendrils of creatures lurking between the stars hovered too far out of sight, and nearby voices drowned out their maddening whispers. Instead, a very real pain ate at his side, the mandibles of something gnawing on his own flesh, and he had the dream realization that the galactic horrors were somehow inside him already, making a feast of his skin.

As he fought to wake himself, dragging his mind back up through the dream, he heard human voices and human words chaotically tumbling over him. They were a lifeline calling him out of the nightmare, and he followed them until they began to make sense.

"Dammit, pressure isn't stopping it," Banner cursed, leaning all his weight on Loki's side. A firm hand moved him out of the way and Rogers took his place, staunching the flow to a thin trickle. Under the man's enhanced strength, Loki groaned and turned his head aside.

"Can we do a transfusion?" Stark asked, looking over Bruce's shoulder.

"Not yet—we could just make things worse if his blood doesn't accept it," Banner said, shoving Stark and annoyed that the man hadn't taken off the armor yet. "We can try Thor's—"

"That will not do," Thor said over them. "His blood is pure Jotun."

"So what did Asgardian doctors do for him?" Banner asked, leaning on the metal bed in frustration.

Thor looked at him blankly. "I...there are healing stones, but I have none—"

"You must have been injured before," Banner insisted, growing impatient. "What did you see?"

"We..." Thor exhaled, then shook his head. "I was always the one hurt. Loki never. He was far too clever to let himself be harmed and knew his place safe beside me. Indeed, he was often the one to mend my wounds."

Banner looked back at Loki, frowning, then shook his head. "Start getting off his clothes. We need to see the damage."

Mechanically, Thor began undoing the clasps on Loki's leather, tearing the long sleeves of his overcoat, ripping the jerkin down the middle and off the shoulders, taking great care not to jostle his brother. As the layers of cloth fell away, Thor saw the deep rent through each piece and the red blotch against Loki's side. He pulled the shirt away, wincing when he saw the wound.

"I think the bleeding's slowed a bit," Rogers said, adjusting his hands each time Thor tore off a layer. "That might not be a good thing, though."

Thor's heart twisted. The others moved around him, digging into cabinets at Banner's orders, a swirl of motion while he and Loki lay still, the calm center of the whirlwind.

Something fell on his foot.

He glanced down, more to touch Loki's hand than to look, and his eyes widened. His lips parted as he drew in a weak, shuddery laugh.

"You little sneak thief," he breathed.

Holding onto Loki's hand, Thor bent and swooped up the golden apple on the floor, giving it a quick glance to make sure it was the real thing.

"Stand back," he said to Rogers. "Loki has made his own luck today."

Confused, Rogers stepped away, then winced and put his hand out as if to stop Thor as the god forced Loki to sit up, heedless of the renewed bleeding. Loki cried out, eyes fluttering as the pain dragged him awake, catching all their attention while Thor climbed up on the table behind him.

"Rest against me," Thor said, holding him flush against his skin. "And open your mouth."

Loki's teeth clenched tight.

"You'd refuse to cut a noose around your neck if I asked," Thor grumbled. "Well then. Not I but your stubbornness is to blame for what happens next."

Thor took a big bite and chewed for several seconds, then seized Loki's jaw in one hand and put his fingertips to the corners of his brother's mouth. Prying Loki's jaws open brought a stubborn cry, and then Thor pressed his lips to Loki's, exchanging the softened apple before forcing his brother's jaw shut again. His other hand came up and clamped over Loki's mouth, and he stoically held him so until Loki stopped thrashing and finally swallowed.

"Ew," Stark said.

"Shut up, Tony," Banner sighed. "Thor, please tell me that's some kind of medicine."

"You don't recognize it?" Rogers asked, mesmerized by the sheen as Thor ignored them to take another bite, and he elaborated when he saw their blank looks. "That's a golden apple. You know, the ones that give immortality?"

When none of them replied, he chuckled and gave Stark a grin. "This time I'm the one who did his homework."

"Oh, got that reference?" Stark snipped, but it didn't make a dent in Rogers' amusement. "C'mon, Capsicle, just 'cause he ain't dying doesn't mean we get to stop working."

As Rogers stood straight, still happy to get one over on him, he put his hand down accidentally not on the table but on Loki's abdomen. Around another mouthful of apple, Loki hissed and swallowed quickly, squeezing his eyes shut. At the same time, Rogers gasped and jerked his hand back as if burned.

"What the..." Rogers stared at Loki, already putting his hand on his shield although Loki had not moved.

Following his lead, Romanoff drew and aimed, stepping sideways from Barton who already had an arrow nocked. Between them, Stark tilted his head and came around the bed.

"Unless you've got an MRI in your helmet," Barton said, "you're just getting in the way of our shots."

"Not quite an MRI," Stark said, but he snapped his head forward to drop his faceplate in place. Numerous heads-up displays appeared before him, all of them focused on Loki. "Sometimes simple is best. I'm picking up three heartbeats on the bed."

"'Three'?" Thor echoed. He looked to Loki for an answer, but his brother refused to speak. Frowning in confusion, he reached his hand down to Loki's side, where Rogers had flinched.

Something slithered under his brother's skin, trying to find its way out. He grimaced in disgust as it moved like a giant worm, and only his stern self-control kept him from flinching back.

"You carry something within you," Thor breathed, and when Loki didn't respond, he shook him once. "Do not feign sleep. Must I force you to eat the whole apple—?"

"No," Loki hissed, giving in. "No more—it only grows stronger with me."

"What grows...?" Thor breathed, feeling his skin crawl as tiny points dragged against his palm, faint but there, disgustingly there. He shook his head. No time for his brother's stalling. "I will not see it harm you further. It comes out, and it comes out now."

At that, Loki opened his eyes, unfocused as the gray ceiling blurred with the gray walls and the glaring lights made it all but impossible to see anyone. But he could see Thor, reassuring and terrible, only inches from his face. A long moment passed as he tried to take in a deep breath, panting in sheer exhaustion.

"It should come out," Loki whispered. "But I cannot do it myself."

Understanding, Thor ran his hand down Loki's side and found the throwing knives. One remained in the pouch, and he drew it out, turning it over so that he could grasp the small, almost delicate piece of steel. Their eyes met again, and then Loki squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head against Thor for comfort.

"Whoa whoa," Banner said, raising one hand to stop him. "Are you gonna do what I think you're gonna do?"

"Something vile grows within him," Thor said as if the impromptu surgery was obvious. "It must be cut out."

"Just like that?" Stark asked. "Okay, I get he pissed us all off, but—look, my laser can serve as a scalpel and—hell, we have actual scalpels here with actual meds—"

"I do not intend to butcher him," Thor said. "The faster done, the faster finished."

"Hang on, dammit." Banner finished working behind his screens and came out from his workstation, a syringe in one hand. "I'm not sure of the dose, but since he went a whole round with the other guy and didn't fall apart, I figure a quadruple horse dose should work."

"Thor?" Loki gasped, hearing little of what was said.

"No," Thor said quickly, turning his attention back on his brother. "He means...ah, truth be told, I know not what he means, but nevertheless, they only mean to help you."

"It's morphine," Banner said as he jabbed Loki's shoulder with the needle. "A pain killer..."

Ice flooded through Loki's veins, soothing all pain and muddling his head with dense fog so that he could no longer think. He heard the rest of them as if underwater, and his head fell weakly on his brother's shoulder. Something cold touched his side, pressing deep into him, and in his waking dream, he wondered how the snow had managed to find its way inside.

TBC...


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7**

White tiles.

Loki blinked and peered at the fluorescent glare between his lashes. Did he care enough to look around and see where he was? He felt like he was made of lead, or like he was passing too close a black hole and he would be sunk down into the floor. So no, he did not care to raise his head, even if he could.

His hands couldn't move. He pulled at one hand, then the other, grimacing as he yanked on one hard, then harder. There were cuffs around his wrists holding him down. The slight effort left him panting weakly, and he lay still, taking some solace in how he felt no pain. Just a cloud of weariness and a pleasant haze numbing his mind.

"Are you awake?"

Deep sigh. Should he feel exasperation or relief at his brother's presence? Loki felt both. At his lowest point, he trusted no one else more. Big, stupid, kind, stupid, loving, stupid Thor. Giant blundering puppy that stomped in puddles and wrecked the house and wondered why you were yelling at him.

It was enough to persuade him to turn his head a few inches, opening his eyes just enough to see the blurry outline of his brother. Then the glare was too much and he flinched. Thor got to his feet, starting around the bed.

"Of course, the light—" Thor said abruptly. "It's too bright in here—"

"No," Loki said as if he was trying to talk underwater. "No—l-leave it...leave...it..."

At the opposite wall, Thor paused, hand at the switch, and looked over his shoulder at him.

"Are you certain?" he asked. "The light seems to cause you pain."

With some effort, Loki managed a nod.

Not happy about it, Thor left the lights on and returned to the bed, sitting down beside his brother. He snuck one hand under the blanket and grasped Loki's fingers, holding him around the cuff, then cupped his jaw, felt his forehead.

"You somehow burn cold," Thor murmured.

"Mm..."

Loki smiled. Thor was all-encompassing, the sunlight of Asgard, holding him and warming him like a summer day. The smile faded. Summer days meant summer storms. If Thor was not angry at him now, no doubt he soon would be.

"Do you thirst?" Thor asked.

Making a tiny noise, Loki allowed himself to be gently manhandled, lifted to sit up against Thor's chest. His mouth was prodded open and a cup pressed to his lips, and the water that flowed after was startlingly cold and clear. It took an effort to swallow, and when he'd finished, a sudden disoriented vertigo turned the room sideways. He grabbed the edges of the bed, wincing.

"—falling—" he gasped.

"No, you are still," Thor said, grabbing his shoulders as if he could force him to feel that he was upright. "It is the fever on you."

His brother's heavy weight was comforting, but why did Thor insist on speaking? They would go back to hating each other in a few minutes, as soon as Loki had strength enough to turn his heart again. For all of Thor's maturing on Midgard, he had yet to learn how to keep his mouth shut, prattling on as he touched Loki, examining his face.

"You are nearly unrecognizable as my little brother," Thor said. "Pale, exhausted, worn ragged...what happened in that lost year?"

Nothing Loki wanted to speak of, but Thor was not worth wasting the breath to curse, not when Thor was pressing something soft and damp and cool to his forehead, parting the cloud in his mind. He let his head tilt to one side, gazing wordlessly at his brother.

There had been a time...

"You are ill," Thor said. "We never fall ill."

A half-smile.

"I'm mad," Loki breathed.

"You...are you?" Thor said, genuinely confused. "Can the mad know of it?"

"These..." Loki licked his lips, gathered strength to speak. "Moments of lucidity are far and few, brother."

"You did not seem mad," Thor said. "Exhausted, crazed or enraged, but never mad."

"It is easier," Loki admitted softly. "Without the Chitauri staff in my mind."

"Magic," Thor said with a note of disgust. "Nothing good comes of warping the world around you. Your studies only bring you pain."

"Such concern." Loki laughed once without humor.

"Of course I feel concern," Thor said. "You're my brother. I would have fallen after you if Father had not grasped me."

Loki glanced at him. Thor seemed in deadly earnest, and his brother never lied.

"Truly?"

"The revelation of your birth unbalanced you," Thor said with a nod. "I should have been there with you."

"If you had been," Loki whispered, "you should have hated me."

Thor frowned, considering his next words. "Arranging my banishment to Midgard is not the worst you have done to me."

Loki groaned deep in his soul. If his brother had never been banished to Midgard, would Thor have attacked him when he discovered Loki's true nature? If he'd never learned to stop hating Jotuns? Loki couldn't know the answer, and it twisted inside of him so much that he refused to give it voice.

"Midgard curbed your tempestuousness," Loki murmured. "Your rash temper."

"It did," Thor agreed. "Perhaps it was the best trouble you have led me into. I learned much on this world, more in mere days than the centuries in Asgard."

Loki squeezed his eyes shut. More than in their long nights together.

"I would have your answers," Thor said, continuing the pleasant cooling touch on Loki's face. "Where were you for that year?"

"Falling," Loki said. "Through the darkness."

Speaking came easier. His head felt lighter than the rest of his body, and the answers slid out of him smoothly. Thor's voice drifted somewhere over him, lulling him into a sense of safety he hadn't felt since long before Thor's almost-coronation. Like they nights they spent on an alien world, resting between hunts, and Loki told stories to amuse Thor as they sat by the fire. Nothing dared attack while Thor sat with him.

"You did not fall forever."

"The Chitauri..." Loki frowned. The campfire faded from his mind, swallowed up by a sky without stars.

"They found you?"

A twist of the blanket in his fingers—tensing and turning on his side as if the memory burned—Loki winced and shook his head. His voice worked without his permission. Teeth—the Chitauri were claws and teeth, chattering teeth when the bloodlust came on them. Their world, a barren rock of a dead moon, in the cold of space, with nothing but the roar of their monstrous pets and the crack of rocks crumbling into dust.

Darkness, no sound, all sensation reduced to claws and teeth, and the Chitauri could chase him into the furthest corner of his mind, boring into his brain no matter how tight he closed his thoughts.

"Loki—" Steel audibly groaned as something broke nearby, but all he heard was Thor calling his name. He thrashed, trying to find his brother and only sinking deeper into memories he felt compelled to divulge.

No sleep, he could never sleep, and his nightmares chased him into waking. They wanted every world—Asgard, Jotunheim, Muspelheim, Midgard. To have the spare prince drop into their hands was a gift, and they dug at his brain like worms burrowing deep, demanding answers.

"-you're panicking, stop—Loki, wake—"

When the torture started, his monstrous pride made him laugh. Every sorcerer first learned how to protect himself, to ward off death and render himself nigh invulnerable. When the torture deepened, gouging and cutting and burning, he cursed his own ingenuity and wished for an end. And when the torture turned to humiliation, when they dragged their mounts into his prison and laughed in hollow voices as he screamed, his world irrevocably warped.

Where there had been mischief, he discovered cruelty. And if he must break, then he would choose what part of himself would fragment. Shattering his soul before the Chitauri could, he cut the grooves and snapped each edge, shaping himself to make all the right decisions even at his most broken.

He was mercifully mad by the time they brought the strange insect-like dragon to his cell-

"Loki!"

An eyeblink. Loki snapped back to the white room, glaring lights, a low rumble of engines and a heartbeat at his ear. For a moment, the two worlds merged, the living tomb of the Chitauri, the warm safety of his brother's arms. The heartbeat was Thor's, a little rushed but unmistakable.

"Brother...do you know where you are?"

Chitauri? Earth? Asgard?

"With you."

Nothing else mattered. Loki breathed, caught his breath, lay still and listened to himself breathing, falling into rhythm with Thor out of habit. His brother adjusted minutely, put his arms around Loki more securely, turned his leg so that Loki nestled in comfort. It was a familiar position but one he had almost forgotten, a century spent as a boy afraid of Jotuns under the bed and Thor held him against the dark, asking stories in exchange. Even so young, Loki knew how to craft tales to rival those in the meadhall.

And Loki would not owe Thor anything. A story was such a cheap price.

"The lake was still," Loki mumbled, his voice grinding in his throat. "Its waters dark and dreary, where no living thing dwelt and trees died when their roots spread too far, turning black and leafless."

"Stop," Thor said. "You hurt yourself further—"

"Even a deer pursued by hunters would balk," Loki continued, "preferring the piercing arrows and spears than to sleep on those shores. Truly this was no nice place."

"Brother—"

Thor touched Loki's throat, and the raggedness of his voice, the bloody flecks on his lips, made him swallow painfully. He carried on regardless.

"But to the monster on the shore," he said, "it was deep and dark enough to hide him, a peaceful home where no one would look."

The embrace around him tightened. A long pause.

"And," Thor said, hesitant about what answer he would receive, "why did he want to hide?"

"Disgusting...dark skinned, small, weak, alone even among monsters." A deep twinge ran down Loki's side and he wriggled closer. "He went into the water and slept, floating in nothing."

"Wasn't he lonely?"

"It was quiet," Loki said. "And he kept everything out. And he drank the dark water and grew powerful, and even if he was still small and ugly, he could at least take care of himself."

Thor snorted, his opinion about Loki's ability to take care of himself obvious but unspoken. He did not ask for more, hoping his brother would fall silent, and as the minutes grew long, Thor found Loki growing heavy in his arms, his breaths deepening.

Asleep at last. Thor sighed and looked at the mess of the room, sheets strewn across the floor, the chair and table overturned, scorches left in the walls and the bed mangled. The mattress lay on the cold tile and Thor held Loki in his lap, nestled between his legs, the cuffs dangling broken chains from where he'd torn his brother free. Loki, in his panic and delirium, had not even noticed he was no longer locked up.

"Is he asleep?"

The tin voice came from the ceiling, and Thor glanced up at the exposed camera in the shattered tv set in the corner. Humans put their electronic ears and eyes everywhere. It was an irritating practice.

"He is," he said softly. "Do not wake him."

The voice did not come back.

TBC...


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8**

When Loki opened his eyes, he found himself nestled against Thor's side, head pillowed on his brother's shoulder. For a long moment he lay still, feigning sleep as he listened. Thor breathed steadily, his breaths lightly touching Loki's hair, and his hand lay slack behind Loki's shoulders. The god of thunder was still sound asleep, hogging the blanket that barely gave Loki any cover. No doubt the mortals watching had good pictures of what a god looked like without his armor.

And he was sure the mortals were watching. Remarkably practical and pragmatic, of course they had him under some kind of surveillance. Thor was a great warrior, but he'd proven he could not treat Loki as anything but his brother.

Loki smiled and savored his brother's warm presence. Such a wonderful, foolish brother.

But he could not lie around forever, and already he was starting to fidget. Moving slowly, he eased up out of Thor's grip, setting his feet on the floor and holding the edge of the bed. The whole room spun, but it spun slowly, and with some force of will, he could make the spinning stop.

More importantly, he did not feel the claws and mandibles scratching under his skin. He pressed his hand against his side, lightly touching the long gash and startled at what he felt. A row of thick metal staples held together a wound as long as his hand. He grimaced and ran his fingertips along the row, healing the cut while popping out each one. The sensation reminded him of roots sunk in just enough to sting coming out.

But at least it left no scar, which was more than he could say for the rest of his body. Thanos had exhausted him utterly, and numerous scars covered his body. He touched one of them, a raised ridge, long and thin, that ran down his side. It was months old now, and it would be a difficult, painful thing to remove such old scars. And yet...

Disgusting. He had long ridges on his body, Jotun or not.

He raised his hand for a spell—and chains clinked. Surprised, he looked down, then chuckled. Sentimental and foolish, yes, but Thor still knew him best. The familiar manacles bound his wrists with a long chain. Did it make his brother feel a little more secure? Or was it to assuage the mortals' fears at having him so close? No matter. He was rested and healing—the chain could not cut him off from his magic completely.

He turned his hand, subtly shifting the aetheric currents in the air to transmute a new set of clothes for himself. And then paused. His usual coat and leathers? Rested as he was, his body ached and the thought of his leather coat brought a new sense of weariness all over again. But he was a prince—

He sighed. Well, maybe not anymore, but he had lived as a prince for hundreds of years. Tired as he was, he would keep his dignity, conjuring up not the loose tunic and leggings he wanted but rather his usual outfit, sighing as he shrugged inside the coat. It took such little effort to bring it forth, but it weighed more heavily on him than before.

How inviting the bed behind him, where he could escape into a sleep beyond nightmares, settled close against his brother. No safer place than beside a loving thunder god, at least when Thor was not angry at him.

His schemes had come this far, however. Though he had not expected fate to unwind so successfully, finally freeing him from Thanos' reach with Asgard still safe, he still had more to do. He paused, taking a moment to think, and then raised his head.

"If you will listen," he said softly, careful not to rouse Thor, "I will tell you everything."

A minute passed. Another. He felt no rush, though, and relaxed as he waited, letting his shoulders slump. What a relief not to have that monster devouring him from the inside out. He looked over his shoulder and watched Thor sleep. As always whenever they slept together, his brother had claimed most of the mattress, lying spread out with his pillow behind his head and his out-flung hand resting on the other. Most of the blankets had fallen over his side, and though Thor had slung his shirt over the headboard, he still had his pants on, if indecently unlaced.

If the mortals were watching and, as Loki had learned was common, were recording them, Thor would have many new fans once the images spread.

The door lightly clicked and swung a few inches, then opened further to reveal several men in vests and dark helmets, each of them holding firearms reminiscent of the one Loki had been shot with on the helicarrier. None of them spoke, and he stood and went toward them, taking the obvious place in their center. As he closed the door, he stole one more glimpse of Thor, still fast asleep.

Hopefully Thor wouldn't react too badly when he didn't find Loki at his side again.

Ships, whether they sailed upon the sea or the wind, all shared one characteristic in common. Space was at a premium, so the hallways were narrow and the rooms packed in tight clusters. Midgard's little marvel of a helicarrier held a few more luxuries than most ships, but even so, they had to cram their laboratories together, medical rooms changing to science as they passed.

Behind the broad glass windows, he caught sight of Banner once again, this time bent over his holographic model of...Loki narrowed his eyes. He only had a quick glance and the diagram was too small to read, but he suspected the model was of his own genetics.

Every time he encountered Midgardians, he was struck by their fearful curiosity.

Banner glanced up as he passed. Their eyes met, and for a moment Loki felt as if Banner would love nothing more than to gain a few more tissue samples of his. Loki turned away. He could use the man's desire to his own ends, but he abhorred such meticulous scrutiny of himself.

To his relief, they had not had time to recreate the cage meant for their Hulk. Instead he was brought to a room all on its own, small and with only a table and a few chairs. A room to conveniently kill someone? The guards lined the wall behind him and locked the door, blocking him from escape. And standing in front of him on the other side of the desk was a familiar man in a long black coat.

"You said you're willing to talk." Director Fury faced him, hands clasped behind his back. "So talk."

"Mortals," Loki sighed, pulling a chair close and sitting down. He leaned back and eased down a few inches in his seat, allowing his chain to drape dramatically to the floor. "So quick to get down to business."

"Must be our short lifespans," Fury said.

Loki smiled, but the smile turned into a grimace as his side twinged as if a knife had been driven into his wound. Shifting, he bent at his side and pressed his hand against where the parasite had lodged. The pressure helped only a little.

"Your world is in danger," Loki said, cutting to what the mortal would be most interested in. "Thanos will come here, and when he does, he will subjugate the planet and kill most of the people on it."

"Thanos," Fury said. "That purple thing Stark brought a piece back of?"

"The same. He rules the Chitauri."

"Why should we care?" Fury said, but without sounding like he disbelieved Loki. Fury argued only to gain information. "We kicked his army's ass and then we sent him packing again."

"Yes," Loki said with a faint smile. "After your team had been formed and galvanized. With the Chitauri led to waste their time taking your 'world capital'."

"'World capital'?" Fury chuckled with no humor. "New York?"

"I needed some place important to you lot," Loki said. "A city you would fight for. And a city that Thanos would believe would crush you when it fell."

Fury narrowed his eye, his skepticism growing. "What do you mean?"

"Tell me, Director Fury," Loki said, and he leaned close as if asking a great secret. "Do you trust me?"

"Fuck no," Fury said with a bitter laugh.

"But Thanos did," Loki said. "He thought me but a broken pawn, and I can only twist the truth so much before the lie becomes obvious. I needed a world capitol. You think Thanos would have believed me if I held the fight over 'fucking Little Falls'?"

Fury's mouth twisted. "Could've at least brought them to Tehran," he muttered. "Pyonyang."

"I'm afraid I don't know where those are," Loki said, half-shrugging. "Even if I did...you saw my scars. And the thing that Thanos put inside me. It took all my will to resist as well as I did."

"You're a god," Fury argued.

"Please, you don't believe that," Loki said, waving away the thought. "Aliens, in your parlance. More powerful, longer lived...harder to kill."

He paused, swamped by sudden memories that he had to force back into their neat, little compartments in his brain. His heart pounded. For a moment, he felt the fires Thanos lit under him, felt the claws and the burst of power that nearly snapped his head off.

Compared to that, Fury's white room was paradise.

"You were listening, I hope," Loki said quietly, staring at the floor. "When I...when I explained to Thor."

"Torture and a 'mind gem'," Fury said. "It was kind of broken up."

"I mentioned the gem?" Loki wondered, confused for a moment. "Strange. I must have been less aware than I realized."

"What is a mind gem?" Fury said. "Your exact words were that it 'chased you into the furthest corners of your mind, bored into your thoughts no matter how tight you closed them'. Do you mean that spear you had?"

Loki nodded once. "It is powerful, saps the will and alters perception. It allowed me to build an army quickly. As for my own mind..."

His voice trailed off.

"It was used on you," Fury understood. "But then once you were free, why'd you keep doing what he wanted?"

A sour taste rose in Loki's throat, and he swallowed it back down. The memories made him nauseous. He hoped Fury was recording this conversation so he need not repeat it.

"You saw its effects on your men," Loki said, still staring at the floor. "Mortals whose minds were unguarded and unprepared for such an assault. But I had centuries to prepare my mental defenses, to practice guarding my thoughts. Those defenses only meant more pain. It took the Chitauri months of battering and prying and digging in. And..."

He paused, noticing that he'd stopped leaning on his knee and was now hugging it, holding himself tightly against the echoes left in his memories. He sat straight, annoyed with himself.

"I broke," Loki said matter of factly, trying to distance himself from the past. "But I controlled how I broke. And while I was not free of him, I could subvert his will. Under the guise of obeying him, I could still lie. He knew nothing about Earth, and he believed my lies completely."

Considering everything Loki had told him, weighing what he said against a deep urge to shoot the god then and there, Fury stared at him for a long time. He glanced at his guards, wondering if their guns, seemingly straight out of a scifi novel, would be enough to kill a god. And Fury wondered if he could afford to kill Loki.

He had seen the recordings of Thanos from Stark's suit. That such a creature existed was unarguable. That Thanos hated Loki was also obvious.

"What does he really want?" Fury asked. "Revenge against us, or just you?"

"You wonder if giving me to him will save your planet from a costly fight," Loki said with a small laugh. "You were warned that power would attract attention. Thanos courts Death. He is in love with her. He would do anything to make her happy, and giving her another planet would fit the bill."

"Wait, 'her'?" Fury said. "Death is a her? Wait, Death is a thing?"

Loki shrugged. "In this, she is not that important. If the idea is too odd, just imagine her to be Thanos' god. He will kill you as a gift to his god."

"Man..." Fury grumbled, for a moment looking less like an imposing director of a secret government agency and more like a schoolboy who'd had a sudden test dropped on him. "What about Asgard? You mentioned he wanted to go there first?"

"This battle will not reach Asgard," Loki said, his voice turning to steel. "I chose Midgard for a reason, the same reason you wish the fight had occurred anywhere else. I have paid a heavy price to keep war away from her."

He and Fury regarded each other for a long moment, sizing up the other's resolve. Of course Fury wanted the battle removed to another planet. He wanted to defend his world, the same reason Loki wanted the battle on Midgard. Loki would not divulge what he thought of Asgard's forces, not to anyone here, but he had seen his adopted planet with the eyes of a king, and he had no faith in her chances of swords defending against the might of Thanos.

Loki knew the look in the man's eye. Fury would hand him over happily if he thought bartering Loki would protect Midgard. At least Fury was not so stupid as thinking he could bribe Thanos to leave, and Loki had offered him information and compliance in return. For all his misgivings at letting Loki on board his helicarrier, Fury was used to taking risks, and a god of mischief was not nearly as dangerous as a Hulk.

"All right," Fury said finally, taking a seat across the table. "Let's say I believe you—and I'm not saying I do. Then what?"

"I stay here," Loki said, laying out his conditions. "I do not return to Asgard. We destroy Thanos. And then I am free to leave."

"Thor says you're mad," Fury said with a laugh. "I think he's right. You think I'm gonna just let you walk around free? For all I know, this is another scheme of yours to take over the world."

"You would throw away my offer?" Loki asked, and he lowered his head, glaring at Fury in growing indignation. "Cast aside what help I can give?"

"I would throw you inside a heavily guarded prison," Fury said. "So you can't kill anyone again."

"You think Thor will let you?" Loki scoffed.

"I think he'd put you there himself," Fury said. "If you're so concerned, you can help us from your padded cell."

"Unacceptable." Loki sat straight and rigid, disdainful of the sound of every gun in the room pointing at him, their energy banks charged and humming.

"That's my offer," Fury said, still sliding one hand down to the holster at his side. "You get your protection—in a cell. There's no way in hell anyone here would trust you."

That, Loki had to concede. No one could trust a god of lies. He paused, deep in thought. He had miscalculated in this. Fury believed in the gods of his own making, but the man's faith in his Avengers meant that someone had to play the fallen snake of his theology.

"Perhaps so," Loki mused, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them to think.

He considered his options. The question was not whether he could escape. Their firearms were dangerous, but the men wielding them were not immune to illusions. However, he did not want to be on his own when Thanos managed to open a new rift, and even moreso he did not want to be locked in a cell, unable to run, if Thanos found him. That left only one option, but it meant adding to his litany of crimes on Asgard.

A wolfish grin spread across his face. Oh, what havoc he could play here.

"But what if I offer you something in return?" he asked. "A token of my good will, in exchange for a small bit of freedom?"

"You got nothing—" Fury started.

"A means of manifesting aether," Loki said over him. "The quintessence."

Leaning forward, ignoring the way all the men took aim at his head and heart, he put out his hand and picked up the pen Fury had left on the table. He met the man's look, then concentrated ever so slightly.

Greenish blue flame ignited on the pen. As the seconds passed, they noticed how the plastic did not melt.

"It isn't fire," Loki said, setting the pen on the table and leaning back in his chair again. "It is the energy of the universe. The means by which I perform all my 'magic'."

Fury stared at the flame, his desire obvious. Loki knew that he'd found the way the tempt him. With held breath, Fury held the pen by the far edge and lifted it up, mesmerized by how the flame lingered without consuming it, cool to the touch.

"I will teach you how to summon and control it," Loki said softly. "If I am permitted my freedom after I help you destroy Thanos. Surely Thor can handle me as before?"

Fury raised his look from the flame to Loki, staring at him silently and still weighing his options. His faith in Loki had not changed. No matter. Loki knew he'd won. All that was left was to wait for Fury to say it.

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9**

A well negotiated deal always made Loki feel like a cat sneaking cream. He refrained from a satisfied grin, quietly listening as Fury outlined how he would be limited and contained, always escorted under guard, always with his brother, and often under guard of the entire Avengers.

"You can keep Stark entertained at least," Fury muttered as he finished. "You'll keep each other out of my hair."

Loki chuckled once. What did one say to a man he'd thrown out a window?

"One last thing," Fury said as he stood, waving the guards forward and away from the door. "That chain of yours...you made clothes for yourself while you were wearing it. You made that little magic fire."

Taking his time as he sat straight, moving languidly like a cat who wants to show that moving was entirely his idea, Loki half-shrugged as if he didn't care.

"Not all magic must be flashy," Loki said. "Little things—like clothes—I can do."

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Fury was about to say something else when an angry yell came from some distance down the hall. Immediately the guards raised their weapons again, but Loki sighed and braced his hand against his side. There was no mistaking that voice.

"Guns down," Fury said to his guards. "Open the door and let him in."

Loki didn't turn around to look. He knew what was coming, but he didn't want to see Thor approaching—

Sure enough, his brother grabbed his throat and hauled him bodily out of the chair. Loki caught a glimpse of Fury stepping back, his one eye comically wide as one god manhandled another, and then Loki grabbed Thor's wrist and held tight.

"Think you to escape yet again?" Thor growled. "Slinking off while I slept—"

"If I'd wanted to leave," Loki said through grit teeth, "I'd be gone."

"Then what is—?"

"I have bartered with these mortals."

"'Bartered'?" Thor demanded, narrowing his eyes. "What do you have that you could offer?"

"A little knowledge," Loki grinned despite the pain of his brother's fingers digging into his skin. "A new roasting spit, perhaps? Nothing world shattering."

Thor's grip eased, though he didn't let go, and he looked to Fury for confirmation.

"I have to get it approved," Fury said, nodding once. "But he's to stay in your custody while he's here."

"This is folly," Thor warned him. "I love my brother, but he is a subtle deceiver."

"A deceiver amongst deceivers," Loki said with a smile. "For Asgard's noblest son, you do keep scandalous company."

"I have no illusions about what Loki is," Fury said. "But I have a world to protect, and I'm going to use whatever I can. Can you keep a handle on him?"

Thor looked down at Loki, relaxing his grip enough to let his brother stand straight. They met each other's gaze, and for almost a minute, neither spoke. Loki met his brother's look, squeezing his wrist once and holding still. Thor heaved a breath and nodded once.

"I am concerned to see him pleased with the bargain he's struck," Thor said. "But I shall see that he causes no grief here."

"Then I'll let you know when I get confirmation," Fury said. "'Till then, see if you can keep him out of trouble and away from the rest of the team. I want to tell them the bad news about keeping him around myself."

A nod, and then Thor was dragging Loki backward down the hallway. The mortals darted out of their way, gaping as the villainous god Loki held onto Thor's arm and staggered to keep up.

"Though it likely falls on deaf ears," Thor said, barely glancing at Loki as he all bug dragged him along, "you best not try your brand of mischief here. I have built a camaraderie amongst these people that I would not have tarnished."

"I'm sure they forgive you for your family," Loki sneered. "We can't choose our blood, after all."

Growling in frustration, Thor halted and pushed Loki against the wall, holding him and leaning painfully close. The storm god's anger had sent armies fleeing in terror, yet Loki bathed in it, taking some comfort in how familiar it felt. Nothing made Thor rumble more than a well placed trick, and through Thor's anger, Loki could make the whole nine realms shake.

"You bear this pain for no reason," Thor huffed. "Regardless of your blood, you are my brother. You will always be my brother."

"A pretty sentiment," Loki said softly. "Even if it is a lie."

"Dammit!" Thor roared at the ceiling, frightening several agents into scurrying through any open door. "You cling to that which hurts you!"

In his frustration, Thor punched the wall beside Loki's head, leaning against him with deep breaths. Loki paused, surprised to find himself so suddenly enveloped by his brother, blocked and pinned with Thor's hands on either side. The chain rattled as Loki moved, not to duck away but to grasp Thor, hiding his face in his brother's gold hair.

Thor's hand, heavy and too strong, landed on his shoulder and jostled him without meaning to.

"So...your tale has some truth to it, at least." Thor lifted his head, catching Loki's look. "Not even a flinch. Are you so dead to pain?"

Half amazed at the question, Loki stared at him for a moment with a growing smile. "More like alive with pain. Have you never been in such agony that it defines you?"

Grimacing, Thor stared at him as if wondering if this was actually his brother. His moods pivoted at the merest suggestion, and this sudden smile made Thor feel more wary than if his brother had cursed him. He cupped Loki's face, haunted by the sick gleam in his eyes. Loki, and yet not Loki.

"It is folly to argue with the mad," Thor murmured. "Would a healing stone mend your mind? A gold apple?"

"Dead Chitauri," Loki said, and the gleam turned hateful. "And dead Jotun. All of them. Chase them back to their cold moon and destroy them all. Then I will mend."

It was impossible for Thor to fully take in the depths of Loki's hatred. He flinched from it, when he'd never flinched from battle. Loki had said he'd carefully broken himself before Thanos could do so, pulling his own strings from across time and before the endless pain, but his machinations became more obvious as he spoke. Confusing Chitauri with Jotun...he'd ensured that he stayed focused on his true goal of betraying Thanos by conflating him with the frost giants.

"Why do you hate yourself so?" Thor murmured. "You are my brother. Is that not enough?"

Shaking his head, Loki laughed softly, clinging to Thor as his laughter changed in pitch. He dragged the back of his sleeve over his face, and Thor caught his chin, forcing his head up. Thor's breath caught. Loki had been trying to hide tears.

"What—?" Thor whispered.

"Take me back," Loki mumbled, closing his eyes. "You make a spectacle of our bickering."

Thor pressed his lips together, but there was no point in arguing. Increasingly aware of the looks they'd

attracted, he put his arm around Loki and hugged him against his side. Not afraid that his brother might bolt, he simply wanted to keep him close.

Instead of a cell or another sterile lab, however, Thor brought him to the rooms designated for him on the ship. Hardly fit for a prince, the spartan accommodations were nevertheless a luxury on a tightly packed carrier. A chest of drawers that Thor did not use, a table and chairs good for stowing his helm and hammer, his own adjoining bathroom and a sizable bed. It sufficed, and he knew how few rooms like these existed on the helicarrier.

"This is not a cell," Loki wondered.

"My own chambers," Thor said, locking the door behind them. "You did not seem to mind sharing a bed again, and this way I may keep a constant watch on you. Lie down."

"Not tired," Loki murmured.

"You must be," Thor said, and he gave him a shove toward the bed. "You slur your words when you're weary. No matter how you composed yourself with Fury, you need rest."

"Thanos' creature took a lot out of me," Loki grumbled, but he went and sat on the edge of the bed regardless. When he stretched, he hissed halfway through and pulled back as if burned, pressing his hand against his side again.

"The wound must run deep if the apple and your magic cannot heal it," Thor said, taking something out of the chest of drawers. "That monster was nearly as large as Mjolnir, with teeth to match."

Loki said nothing. He swept the room with his eyes, wondering where Fury had his eyes and ears, watching and listening to their every move. With the sharp twist of his wound, the keen awareness of being watched, the sense of being imprisoned in the cage of Thor's room—he dug his fingers into the blanket. This was not a Chitauri cage, he told himself. There was light, a soft bed, and the gentle quiet noise of an air conditioner, or perhaps it was the muffled drone of the engines.

"Here," Thor said, offering him a handful of pills. "Banner says these should ease your pain."

Giving the pills a look, Loki glanced skeptically up at Thor. "Your friends want me dead."

"They fought to save you convincingly enough," Thor said.

"They fought to keep Thanos from crossing," Loki corrected him.

But his whole body hurt, and he seemed to feel every inch of where the parasite had crawled through him. And if nothing else, he trusted Thor. Grimacing, he popped all the pills in one go, swallowing them down without water.

"Now rest," Thor said. "I'll have dinner brought here. And perhaps something to busy your mind. Books. I'm sure they have those on board."

Rolling his eyes, Loki didn't bother reminding Thor that books were not all the same. His brother was willing to make the effort and that reassured him, and the bed drew him invitingly down. The chains at his wrists pooled on the edge of the bed and dragged over the side, tugging at him, but Thor grasped the metal and draped it over the corner of the bed. Even as Loki closed his eyes, he had to make one more comment.

"No damned muzzle?"

Thor audibly paused.

"...I saw the horror you left behind in Asgard. The torn teeth and shattered bone of your jaw. I'll find a different way to check your magic. If I must."

Loki chuckled, but he didn't respond. 'If he must.' His wonderful, foolish brother was so optimistic. One day he would have to tell his brother the story of the frog and the scorpion. Even within the limits of the arrangement he'd miraculously bargained for himself, he felt the prickings of all the myriad tricks he could play.

Once he was rested. Once the pain vanished. For now, the drug-induced haze settled quickly on him, dragging him down into a fuzzy-headed waking dream where he was vaguely aware of Thor tugging his boots off, drawing a blanket over him.

So stupid, he wanted to say. Jotun need no blankets.

But he stayed mute as reality melted with sleep, and old memories of cold and painful nights with Thor slowly roused back to mind. Centuries ago when he had camped with his brother in the depths of winter, waiting for months of darkness to end and the sun come up so Thor might feel warmth again.

"_Take the fur," Loki grumbled, dropping the freshly tanned hide onto his brother's head. "It isn't as if I need another blanket, and your shivering will keep me awake."_

_Glaring at him from under the hide, nevertheless Thor turned it so that the fur faced inward and adjusted the other two blankets, scooting closer. His wet clothes, soaked from tromping through the blizzard, lay drying beside the fire. Sparks flew up as Loki stirred the flames and added more broken branches, lighting the lean-to and reflecting off the snowflurries in the darkness._

_There was no moon, hidden behind the thick clouds, and the fire revealed nothing of the forest around them. It was as if all of Midgard had been swallowed up in the night, and only Loki's magic had saved them from falling into the universe. Thor keenly felt their isolation, more used to spending dark nights like this inside the warm meadhall with friends and warriors, annoyed by his brother only picking at the feast, Loki's sly gaze watching everyone around him._

"_You handle cold so well," Thor said, relieved that his breath no longer misted in the air. "How is it your hands do not shake?"_

_Loki grinned, always pleased that in this one way he physically surpassed the best warrior of Asgard._

"_I'm simply tougher than you," he said. _

_As always, though, the old doubt lingered in his brain, prodding him like a needle. Why him? Why should Loki alone feel no sting from the winter chill? Thin, slender Loki, smaller than his brother and without any enchantments or extra clothing, could walk through a blizzard as if the warm summer wind passed by. _

"_The storm should end by morning," Loki said, listening to the thunder rumble overhead. "Shall we cut short this hunting trip? You look as blue as a Jotun."_

"_We have weathered worse," Thor chuckled. "I would not return home so quickly, nor without a fine kill to bring back. Throw another log on, will you?"_

_Nodding once, Loki tossed on several more chunks of wood and then sat next to Thor, leaning against him and resting his head on his brother's shoulder. As much as he missed the privacy of his own chambers and the book of magic he had been studying, he likewise loved this time alone with Thor. Away from the warriors and the obligations of family, hidden from Heimdall's eyes in Midgard's thick winter, he and his brother could sit together without Asgard telling them who and what to be._

_Thor leaned over him, thawed enough to move again and spill the furs across himself and Loki, and Thor was hot against the winter wind, burning against Loki's skin hotter than the fire. He covered Loki without asking permission, already knowing it was given._

_For his part, Loki lay back, his gaze locked with Thor's, biting his lip as Asgard's mightiest warrior chose to lie with Asgard's lying sorcerer. His brother enveloped him, filling him with his sheer presence, completing Loki in a way that magic and trickery never could. As they moved together, the sweet sense of oneness, that this was how they were meant to be, washed away all the cruel jibes and mutters of the other warriors, making it all bearable._

_But Loki would never stoop to tell that to Thor._

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 10**

A stack of books landed on the nightstand beside the bed, inches from Loki's face. He didn't blink. The pause that followed told him that Thor had hoped for a reaction, a flinch, anything to show he could still react like a normal god. And then his brother brushed his hair from his eyes, feeling at his temple for fever.

"You still burn," Thor said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But not so badly now. I think you shall be well soon enough."

Loki closed his eyes.

"Here," said Thor, tilting the books. "Look. My comrades helped pick these out for you."

Loki half-opened one eye. From the pillow, he read a few of the titles that Thor had brought him. _Military Tax and Fee Waivers for 2011-2012 . Legal Support Plan for the General Support Military Intelligence Company. String Theory: Variational Problems in Abstract Dimensions. An Interim Report on Statistical Incident Analyses. _Of course his enemies had helped pick it out.

But at least it isn't battle poetry, Loki thought. He relaxed, closing his eyes again as he drowsed under Thor's hand. Thor jostled him, but too lightly to do more than make him grumble. While Loki was sick, Thor would be too nervous to use his full strength on him.

"Do you intend to sleep the day away?" Thor asked. "Morning is almost gone."

"I recall being young and swearing that I would never rise early," Loki said faintly, refusing to let himself fully wake. "If ever left to my own devices."

"'Rise early'," Thor scoffed. "Say 'rise at all'. I have given up on your seeing the cock call, but if you had your way, you would sleep 'till the night bird hoots."

"He is the most sensible of birds," Loki agreed. "And knows a wound such as mine needs rest."

"A wound such as yours needs moving," Thor said, jostling him gently. "The best medicine is work. There is a place set aside where we may train, away from the mortals."

And with the rest of his brother's team, Loki thought. Wouldn't that make for wonderfully awkward conversation? Perhaps an arrow in the eye or a repulsor ray to his face. The dire possibilities roused him fully out of sleep, and he turned on his back, stretching until he pulled at the scar.

"A compromise," Loki offered, rising up on one elbow before Thor got it in his head to drag him out of bed. "I shall lie here, awake, reading the fine fare you have brought me."

"You will not go back to sleep?" Thor asked. "I warn you, I may look in upon you at any time. Stark showed me how to operate their little monitors."

Loki smirked, sitting up straight with a curious look. "And what do your friends think of Asgardian house arrest? Are they not dismayed to see you place me under such light scrutiny?"

"That chain is Asgardian steel," Thor reminded him. "You will not cause mischief while you wear it."

As much as he wanted to laugh, Loki kept a straight face. He did snicker once, and began brainstorming the devious tricks he could play even with his magic reduced to a trickle.

"More importantly," Thor said, already knowing his mind, "you would not jeopardize such newly won alliances while Thanos yet hunts you."

That, however, was painfully true, and Loki turned away with a frown. He felt Thor clamp a hand on his shoulder, giving him a rough squeeze.

"Please, Loki, do not do anything to cast off that protection," Thor said. "I would keep you safe...if you let me."

Knowing that if he made a promise, he'd be compelled to break it, Loki half-shrugged and reached over to one of the books, dragging it onto his lap. Boring or not, it would do well to pass the time, especially if he managed to fall asleep.

"Your friends?" Loki asked, not meeting his eyes. "Fury?"

"Will likewise safeguard you," Thor promised. "We train for the inevitable battle with Thanos, to hold ourselves in readiness. At least we do when Banner and Stark are not enthralled with that green flame you left them."

Loki had to wonder at that. The two scientists were dangerously intelligent, and if they found they did not need him to unravel the quintessence, then they would assume they did not need his help. After so many centuries, the mysteries of the cosmic energies were obviously apparent to him, and he feared that they would be just as obvious to Stark and Banner.

"Have they discovered anything about it?" he asked.

"Even were I inclined to listen to them, would I understand?" Thor shrugged. "But they grow impatient. They want to ask questions of you."

"And I would sleep," Loki said, staring at the book with no interest. "I feel I have been fighting for months."

His only answer was a hand clapped to his shoulder again, and then Thor left with a promise to return with breakfast. From the corner of his eye, Loki watched him go, then glanced down at the book and the random page it had fallen open to.

_Military diplomacy will integrate the feasible practicalities of each incident on an individual basis, including but not limited to enemy combatants in aggrieved circumstances in conjunction with compromises pursuant to national interests. (Further study of the Manual on Diplomatic Confidentiality, section 12 subsection 13-27.) _

As dry as any spell book. Loki left the book open on his lap and loafed against the pillow, drowsing again. His brother had only postponed his morning exercise to bring him these books, and now Thor had his whole morning routine to attend. Which meant the morning was still obscenely early, and Loki grumbled and closed his eyes and cursed Thor's fault of being a morning person.

"God of mischief...more like god of sleep."

It seemed as if he'd only blinked, but Loki smiled as he felt his brother's presence fill the room. For Thor to be back meant he'd slept throughout his brother's exercises, easily two or three extra hours.

"If I sleep," Loki breathed, refusing to open his eyes, "then I cannot get into trouble, no?"

"I admit," Thor said, and his voice moved through the room as he came closer. "The thought had crossed my mind."

Loki's smile turned into a wolf's grin, and when he felt Thor sit beside him, Loki shifted on his side, turning his back to his brother. The move sent the sheet sliding down to his waist, pooling just above his hips, and the chained softly clinked just loud enough to punctuate the scene. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Or you could find ways to keep me occupied?" Loki murmured, reading the growing want in his brother's eyes. "These aren't furs on a frozen ground, but they'll do..."

Thor stared at him with a look that Loki recognized. Aching need, deepening breath, a warm hand coming to rest on Loki's exposed ribs—

Hesitating, Thor's hand stopped before he touched him. Loki's smile faded and he stared at his brother, then followed his look up to the corner of the room. A little camera with a glowing red dot quietly watched, and Loki couldn't tell whether to feel anger at this mechanical Heimdall or frustration at Thor's own unease.

"Why do you wait?" Loki asked softly. "Do you no longer desire me?"

"I have no doubt we are not alone," Thor muttered, sitting up and glaring at his brother. "I should not have allowed you to lure me in. To drop my defenses in whatever trick you've—"

"'Trick'?" Loki said in surprise, then clenched his teeth in rage. "I offer myself to you and you call it a trick?"

"Loki—" Thor said with one upraised hand, as if to forestall a temper tantrum.

"How dare you?" Loki hissed, sitting up and scooting away from him. "I offer myself after everything I have gone through, and you call it a trick?"

"You plan this with their machines recording us," Thor said, rising to his full height to loom over him. "You plan to damage my standing amongst my comrades, that I would rut with you."

"'Rut'," Loki whispered, the shock of the word pushing out every other emotion. "Is that all it is to you?"

Thor froze, feeling the pain in his brother's voice as clearly as if he'd struck him with Mjolnir. Had he misjudged Loki's intentions? But his gaze flickered to the camera he knew was in the corner, and he could not rip the suspicion from his thoughts.

"I cannot guess at your scheming," Thor said. "Your lies are a labyrinth of deceit—"

"I am not all lies," Loki breathed, his voice fading to nothing. His gaze slipped down, away from Thor, down to the sheet, and when he spoke again, with every word his voice slowly grew in boldness and sly, drawn out sylables. "My dear, stupid brother. You could never guess my tricks. You think I would be so simple in my attack? You underestimate me as always."

"Then you admit an attack—" Thor tried, reaching for him.

"You underestimate everything about me." Loki turned and climbed off the bed. "My plans, my desires,...everything."

He shrugged off Thor's hand, creating his tunic and leathers from the aether. He pressed one hand against his side as the emptiness within ached, limping once as he moved toward the door. It refused to open at his touch, and he gave a faint growl.

"You are not free from my watch," Thor warned him. "You have no movement about this vessel save that I allow it."

"Then follow me," Loki said over his shoulder, drawing out the syllables with scorn. "I have promises to fulfill to Fury, or would you have me stain Asgard's honor further?"

Thor huffed, but he came around the bed and grabbed the back of Loki's neck, not hurting him but also keeping him only as far as arm's reach. For himself, Loki cursed once and waited for Thor to open the door, ignoring his lecturing chatter as they went down the hall.

Everyone else in the corridor moved aside, pressing themselves flat against the walls as two gods passed by. To no one's surprise, only a few moments had passed before several armed guards were in the doorways and keeping pace behind them. When they arrived at the lab, both Romanov and Barton stood on either side of the main entrance.

"There was less fuss yesterday," Loki murmured as he went in.

"You were ill and weak," Thor said, giving him a faint shove as he let go. "Now you are like a wounded animal, capable of biting."

"Ah, Thor waxes poetic," Loki said, a sneer twisting his lips. He turned and faced his brother, rubbing the back of his neck. "An animal more clever than you, then."

"Too clever for your own good," Thor said in a softer tone. "Had you been content with your knives and spears, and let your talent with illusion rust, you would have been happier."

Loki did not answer. They could argue for years—they had, once, during their seventh century—and he knew he could no more change his soul than change his true parentage. Thor would never understand. Only a shapeshifter could grasp how some tiny kernel remained and refused to budge, be it soul or spirit or mind. Loki would remain Loki.

"There you are!"

Loki blinked and looked over his shoulder. Stark stood up from behind one of the massive machines in the laboratory. There were dark circles under his eyes and a strong scent of coffee about the room.

"Finally," Stark said, waving him over. "I mean, I know from having to sleep off a bender or two, but taking a couple whole days is just too much. Come over here and show us how this works."

With a smug grin at his brother, Loki made his way carefully between the beeping, blinking equipment on either side, keeping his coat and chains from trailing against any of the cords plugged into the floor. Compared to those in Asgard, the machines here were raw and inelegant, obvious in their purpose. A machine to encode human genetic structure, laboriously, bit by bit. A machine to deduce the elements within a substance through spectroscopic light. A holographic display of what the humans had learned so far about the aether, and he paused for a moment to scan it.

"You know so little," he murmured, being so bold as to touch the scan and move a few diagrams to either side, calling up a smaller display of the lack of heat, radiation or air current around the object. "And yet you have done all this in such a short time."

"I'm better at homework when it's something I'm interested in," Stark said, munching from a bag of blueberries and offering it to Loki. "Berry?"

"Are you sure it is?" Loki asked, taking a small handful and regarding it skeptically. "This no longer resembles fruit."

From the other side of the display, a second person stood up, looking worn and disheveled with his clothes rumpled around him. Loki immediately tensed, regarding him warily.

"That's because it isn't fruit anymore," Banner said. "It's sugar and chocolate wrapped around what used to be a perfectly good—"

"We've had this conversation before and I won," Stark said.

"No, you said chocolate always wins and left it at that," Banner said.

"Exactly," Stark said, pouring the last bits of the bag into his mouth and tossing it aside, where Banner took it and set it in the can labelled 'hazardous waste.' "Now, green jeans, come show us what the hell this is."

"It's aether," Loki said, raising an eyebrow at Stark but saying nothing. "The quintessence. I've already told this to your Fury."

"Oh, I like that," Stark said, waving him closer to their workstation. "'Our Fury'. Makes him sound like our anger personified." He glanced at Banner. "No offense to the big guy."

"None taken," Banner sighed, with the air of constant practice.

"But that's just names," Stark said. "I wanna know what this little thing can do. What's it made of? And no poetic 'essential material of the celestial realms', please."

"It sounds like you already looked," Loki said.

"Folklore and science don't get along," Stark shrugged. "There's no peer reviewed study on the divine stuff of the universe."

"I wouldn't go so far as divine," Loki said, looking at the pen he'd left burning, now encased in a glass machine that struggled mightily to decipher its makeup. "Merely a more malleable, ever-present element."

Banner leaned against the counter, thumping a pencil on the edge. "So how do you manipulate it?"

"And don't say magic," Stark said. "Thor said what we think of as magic is science to you."

"Might as well be magic to him as well," Loki snorted. "The words you're looking for are psychoelectric kinesthesis."

Stark took a second to take the term apart. "Your brainwaves do it?"

"Wait, that makes sense," Banner said, standing and growing more excited. "Brainwaves can be triggered. That's why Doom could use words and symbols to work magic—it's the way the words trigger the brain into shaping aether."

Loki grimaced. "Please don't lump me in with that pathetic amateur. Yes, there are spells and circles, but to need such things for the basic elemental forces as he was playing with—"

A heavy rustling interrupted him. Loki glanced at the far wall, expecting to see a laboratory animal of some sort, and instead found a steel cage holding a coiled Titan wyrm. Already several feet in length, it slithered around the cage and stopped, facing him.

Every aspect of it was familiar, from the thick, yellowed scales that scraped like bones, the heavy black eyes, the narrow mouth of long chisel fangs... Loki went perfectly still, holding his breath, as if that would keep it from seeing him. Two stunted arms hung off its sides, small claws in insect-like pinchers that were so adept at holding prey or clinging to a creature beneath itself.

"Oh, you like our oversized meal worm?" Stark said, following his look. "It grew pretty quick once it came out of you."

Loki put his hand out, finding the edge of the counter and gripping it as if he might fall. His breaths came in quick, useless drags. Thor—where was Thor? A heavy rhythm began to pulse on his brain, pressure building in his head as if he were deep underwater.

"You didn't kill it?" he gasped, swaying slightly as he turned from it.

"Oh crap," Stark said, his eyes widened as he looked at Loki—short breath, dizziness, twitching—and recognized the symptoms. "Bruce, we need my meds—scrap that, we need quadruple horse tranqs—"

The room was collapsing around him, tighter and tighter, the lights darkening around him until all he saw was a tunnel straight to the wyrm, which sat up like a rearing snake and licked at the air, tasting for something. Loki vaguely heard Stark and Banner opening cabinets, calling out something about needles and dosages, and something glass crashed nearby. His pounding heartbeat and roaring breath drowned out everything else.

Then the wyrm froze, locked eyes with Loki, and smashed its body against the cage. Bone scales crashed against steel as it tried to break through, a mad frenzy as it lunged at him again and again—

The world exploded into light, and then Stark and Banner were twenty times taller, Loki no higher than their ankles. He raced around the counter, underneath a chair, clinging to the sides of the door as he ran between the feet of startled and cursing guards who fired and missed.

_Have I changed shape?_ he thought, watching what was happening as if he were in a dream, no longer in control of himself. A set of long slats of steel appeared in front of him, an air vent he realized as he went through, safe from the explosions behind him. He fled as if the wyrm were on his heels, turning sharp corners through the interior of the ship, shying away from loud noises and any touch of light.

He knew he must have blacked out during part of his escape, since he found himself once more in his usual shape with his back in a corner and several stacked boxes in front of him, just silhouettes against a murky point of light. It was very dark and cold enough that his breath misted slightly. After a moment, his breath no longer misted, and he curled up and rested his head against his knees. His eyes closed, though he didn't fall asleep.

There was no sound nearby, but he heard soft voices muffled by distance, a few clangs and machine hums. The cold reassured him, luring him into a relaxing torpor, and he waited. No matter where he hid, his brother would find him. And yell at him, and possibly shake and throttle him...but Thor would find him. And then Loki would demand that he take Mjolnir and flatten that wyrm's head—

A shudder went through him. He shook his head violently, then settled again. No. He would not think of that. This space was cold and quiet and nothing else was inside with him. He was alone. He would stare into the darkness and wait.

TBC...


End file.
